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<Cmcnjom 

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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  BOSTON. 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE 


RALPH   WALDO    EMERSON 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1860. 
BY  R.  W.  EMERSON. 

Copyright,  1888. 
BY  EDWARD  W.  EMERSON. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  MOM.,  V.  S.  A. 
Printed  by  II.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


Al 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

FATE      

PACK 

7 

II. 

POWER        

45 

III. 

WEALTH  

.       69 

IV. 

CULTUEE     

103 

V. 

BEHAVIOR       .... 

.     133 

VI. 

WORSHIP    

157 

VII. 

CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY 

.     191 

VIII. 

BEAUTY      

219 

IX. 

ILLUSIONS       .... 

.     241 

THE   CONDUCT   OF   LIFE. 


1. 

FATE. 


DELICATE  omens  traced  in  air 
To  the  lone  bard  true  witness  bare; 
Birds  with  auguries  on  their  wings 
Chanted  undeceiving  things 
Him  to  beckon,  him  to  warn; 
Well  might  then  the  poet  scorn 
To  learn  of  scribe  or  courier 
Hints  writ  in  vaster  character ; 
And  on  his  mind,  at  dawn  of  day, 
Soft  shadows  of  the  evening  lay. 
For  the  prevision  is  allied 
Unto  the  thing  so  signified; 
Or  say,  the  foresight  that  awaits 
Is  the  same  Genius  that  creates. 


FATE. 


IT  chanced  during  one  winter,  a  few  years  ago,  that  our 
cities  were  bent  on  discussing  the  theory  of  the  Age.  By 
an  odd  coincidence,  four  or  five  noted  men  were  each 
reading  a  discourse  to  the  citizens  of  Boston  or  New 
York,  on  the  Spirit  of  the  Times.  It  so  happened  that 
the  subject  had  the  same  prominence  in  some  remarkable 
pamphlets  and  journals  issued  in  London  in  the  same 
season.  To  me,  however,  the  question  of  the  times  re- 
solved itself  into  a  practical  question  of  the  conduct  of 
life.  How  shall  I  live  ?  We  are  incompetent  to  solve 
the  times.  Our  geometry  cannot  span  the  huge  orbits 
of  the  prevailing  ideas,  behold  their  return,  and  recon- 
cile their  opposition.  We  can  only  obey  our  own  polar- 
ity. 'T  is  fine  for  us  to  speculate  and  elect  our  course, 
if  we  must  accept  an  irresistible  dictation. 

In  our  first  steps  to  gain  our  wishes,  we  come  upon 
immovable  limitations.  We  are  fired  with  the  hope  to 
reform  men.  After  many  experiments,  we  find  that  we 
must  begin  earlier,  —  at  school.  But  the  boys  and  girls 
are  not  docile ;  we  can  make  nothing  of  them.  We  de- 
cide that  they  are  not  of  good  stock.  We  must-  begin 
our  reform  earlier  still,  —  at  generation :  that  is  to  say, 
there  is  Fate,  or  laws  of  the'  world. 
1* 


10  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

But  if  there  be  irresistible  dictation,  this  dictation 
understands  itself.  If  we  must  accept  Pate,  we  are  not 
less  compelled  to  affirm  liberty,  the  significance  of  the 
individual,  the  grandeur  of  duty,  the  power  of  character. 
This  is  true,  and  that  other  is  true.  But  our  geometry 
cannot  span  these  extreme  points,  and  reconcile  them. 
What  to  do?  By  obeying  each  thought  frankly,  by 
harping,  or,  if  you  will,  pounding  on  each  string,  we 
learn  at  last  its  power.  By  the  same  obedience  to 
other  thoughts,  we  learn  theirs,  and -then  comes  some 
reasonable  hope  of  harmonizing  them.  We  are  sure, 
that,  though  we  know  not  how,  necessity  does  comport 
with  liberty,  the  individual  with  the  world,  my  polar- 
ity with  the  spirit  of  the  times.  The  riddle  of  the  age 
has  for  each  a  private  solution.  If  one  would  study 
his  own  time,  it  must  be  by  this  method  of  taking  up 
in  turn  each  of  the  leading  topics  which  belong  to  our 
scheme  of  human  life,  and,  by  firmly  stating  all  that  is 
agreeable  to  experience  on  one,  and  doing  the  same 
justice  to  the  opposing  facts  in  the  others,  the  true  lim- 
itations will  appear.  Any  excess  of  emphasis,  on  one 
part,  would  be  corrected,  and  a  just  balance  would  be 
made. 

But  let  us  honestly  state  the  facts.  Our  America  has 
a  bad  name  for  superficialness.  Great  men,  great  na- 
tions, have  not  been  boasters  and  buffoons,  but  perceivers 
of  the  terror  of  life,  and  have  manned  themselves  to  face 
it.  The  Spartan,  embodying  his  religion  in  his  country, 
dies  before  its  majesty  without  a  question.  The  Turk, 
who  believes  his  doom  is  written  on  the  iron  leaf  in  the 
moment  when  he  entered  the  world,  rushes  on  the  en- 


FATE.  11 

emy's  sabre  with  undivided  will.  The  Turk,  the  Arab, 
the  Persian,  accepts  the  foreordained  fate. 

"  On  two  days,  it  steads  not  to  run  from  thy  grave, 

The  appointed,  and  the  unappointed  day ; 
On  the  first,  neither  balm  nor  physician  can  save, 
Nor  thee,  on  the  second,  the  Universe  slay." 

The  Hindoo,  under  the  wheel,  is  as  firm.  Our  Calvin- 
ists,  in  the  last  generation,  had  something  of  the  same 
dignity.  They  felt  that  the  weight  of  the  Universe  held 
them  down  to  their  place.  What  could  they  do  ?  Wise 
men  feel  that  there  is  something  which  cannot  be  talked 
or  voted  away,  —  a  strap  or  belt  which  girds  the  world. 

"  The  Destiny,  minister  general, 
That  executeth  in  the  world  o'er  all, 
The  purveyance  which  God  hath  seen  beforne, 
So  strong  it  is,  that  though  the  world  had  sworn 
The  contrary  of  a  thing  by  yea  or  nay, 
Yet  sometime  it  shall  fallen  on  a  day 
That  falleth  not  oft  in  a  thousand  year  ; 
For,  certainly,  our  appetites  here, 
Be  it  of  war,  or  peace,  or  hate,  or  love, 
All  this  is  ruled  by  the  sight  above." 

CfliUCER  :  The  Knlghte's  Tale. 

The  Greek  Tragedy  expressed  the  same  sense : 
"Whatever  is  fated,  that  will  take  place.  The  great 
immense  mind  of  Jove  is  not  to  be  transgressed." 

Savages  cling  to  a  local  god  of  one  tribe  or  town. 
The  broad  ethics  of  Jesus  were  quickly  narrowed  to 
village  theologies,  which  preach  an  election  or  favoritism. 


12  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

And,  now  and  then,  an  amiable  parson,  like  Jung  Stil- 
ling, or  Robert  Huntington,  believes  in  a  pistareen- 
Providence,  which,  whenever  the  good  man  wants  a 
dinner,  makes  that  somebody  shall  knock  at  his  door, 
and  leave  a  half-dollar.  But  Nature  is  no  sentimentalist, 
—  does  not  cosset  or  pamper  us.  We  must  see  that  the 
world  is  rough  and  surly,  and  will  not  mind  drowning  a 
man  or  a  woman ;  but  swallows  your  ship  like  a  grain  of 
dust.  The  cold,  inconsiderate  of  persons,  tingles  your 
blood,  benumbs  your  feet,  freezes  a  man  like  an  apple. 
The  diseases,  the  elements,  fortune,  gravity,  lightning, 
respect  no  persons.  The  way  of  Providence  is  a  little 
rude.  The  habit  of  snake  and  spider,  the  snap  of  the 
tiger,  and  other  leapers  and  bloody  jumpers,  the  crackle 
of  the  bones  of  his  prey  in  the  coil  of  the  anaconda,  — 
these  are  in  the  system,  and  our  habits  are  like  theirs. 
You  have  just  dined,  and,  however  scrupulously  the 
slaughter-house  is  concealed  in  the  graceful  distance  of 
miles,  there  is  complicity,  —  expensive  races,  —  race 
living  at  the  expense  of  race.  The  planet  is  liable  to 
shocks  from  comets,  perturbations  from  planets,  rendings 
from  earthquake  and  volcano,  alterations  of  climate,  pre- 
cessions of  equinoxes.  Pavers  dry  up  by  opening  of  the 
forest.  The  sea  changes  its  bed.  Towns  and  counties 
fall  into  it.  At  Lisbon,  an  earthquake  killed  men  like 
flies.  At  Naples,  three  years  ago,  ten  thousand  persons 
were  crushed  in  a  few  minutes.  The  scurvy  at  sea ;  the 
sword  of  the  climate  in  the  west  of  Africa,  at  Cayenne,  at 
Panama,  at  New  Orleans,  cut  off  men  like  a  massacre. 
Our  Western  prairie  shakes  with  fever  and  ague.  The 
cholera,  the  small-pox,  have  proved  as  mortal  to  some 


FATE.  13 

tribes,  as  a  frost  to  the  crickets,  which,  having  filled  the 
summer  with  noise,  are  silenced  by  a  fall  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  one  night.  Without  uncovering  what  does  not 
concern  us,  or  counting  how  many  species  of  parasites 
hang  on  a  bombyx  ;  or  groping  after  intestinal  parasites, 
or  infusory  biters,  or  the  obscurities  of  alternate  genera- 
tion ;  —  the  forms  of  the  shark,  the  labrus,  the  jaw  of 
the  sea-wolf  paved  with  crushing  teeth,  the  weapons  of 
the  grampus,  and  other  warriors  hidden  in  the  sea,  —  are 
hints  of  ferocity  in  the  interiors  of  nature.  Let  us  not 
deny  it  up  and  down.  Providence  has  a  wild,  rough, 
incalculable  road  to  its  end,  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  try  to 
whitewash  its  huge,  mixed  instrumentalities,  or  to  dress 
up  that  terrific  benefactor  in  a  clean  shirt  and  white 
neckcloth  of  a  student  in  divinity. 

Will  you  say,  the  disasters  which  threaten  mankind 
are  exceptional,  and  one  need  not  lay  his  account  for 
cataclysms  every  day  ?  Ay,  but  what  happens  once  may 
happen  again,  and  so  long  as  these  strokes  are  not  to  be 
parried  by  us,  they  must  be  feared. 

But  these  shocks  and  ruins  are  less  destructive  to  us, 
than  the  stealthy  power  of  other  laws  which  act  on  us 
daily.  An  expense  of  ends  to  means  is  fate ;  —  organi- 
zation tyrannizing  over  character.  The  menagerie,  or 
forms  and  powers  of  the  spine,  is  a  book  of  fate :  the 
bill  of  the  bird,  the  skull  of  the  snake,  determines  tyran- 
nically its  limits.  So  is  the  scale  of  races,  of  tempera- 
ments ;  so  is  sex ;  so  is  climate ;  so  is  the  reaction  of 
talents  imprisoning  the  vital  power  in  certain  directions. 
Every  spirit  makes  its  house ;  but  afterwards  the  house 
confines  the  spirit. 


14  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

The  gross  lines  are  legible  to  the  dull :  the  cabman  is 
phrenologist  so  far :  he  looks  in  your  face  to  see  if  his 
shilling  is  sure.  A  dome  of  brow  denotes  one  thing ;  a 
pot-belly  another;  a  squint,  a  pug-nose,  mats  of  hair, 
the  pigment  of  the  epidermis,  betray  character.  People 
seem  sheathed  in  their  tough  organization.  Ask  Spurz- 
heim,  ask  the  doctors,  ask  Quetelet,  if  temperaments 
decide  nothing  ?  or  if  there  be  anything  they  do  not 
decide  ?  Read  the  description  in  medical  books  of  the 
four  temperaments,  and  you  will  think  you  are  reading 
your  own  thoughts  which  you  had  not  yet  told.  Find 
the  part  which  black  eyes,  and  which  blue  eyes,  play 
severally  in  the  company.  How  shall  a  man  escape  from 
his  ancestors,  or  draw  off  from  his  veins  the  black  drop 
which  he  drew  from  his  father's  or  his  mother's  life  ?  It 
often  appears  in  a  family,  as  if  all  the  qualities  of  the 
progenitors  were  potted  in  several  jars,  —  some  ruling 
quality  in  each  son  or  daughter  of  the  house,  —  and 
sometimes  the  unmixed  temperament,  the  rank  unmiti- 
gated elixir,  the  family  vice,  is  drawn  off  in  a  separate 
individual,  and  the  others  are  proportionally  relieved. 
We  sometimes  see  a  change  of  expression  in  our  com- 
panion, and  say,  his  father,  or  his  mother,  comes  to  the 
windows  of  his  eyes,  and  sometimes  a  remote  relative. 
In  different  hours,  a  man  represents  each  of  several  of 
his  ancestors,  as  if  there  were  seven  or  eight  of  us  rolled 
up  in  each  man's  skin,  —  seven  or  eight  ancestors  at  least, 
—  and  they  constitute  the  variety  of  notes  for  that  new 
piece  of  music  which  his  life  is.  At  the  corner  of  the 
street,  you  read  the  possibility  of  each  passenger,  in 
the  facial  angle,  in  the  complexion,  in  the  depth  of  his 


FATE.  15 

eye.  His  parentage  determines  it.  Men  are  what  their 
mothers  made  them.  You  may  as  well  ask  a  loom  which 
weaves  huckaback,  why  it  does  not  make  cashmere,  as 
expect  poetry  from  this  engineer,  or  a  chemical  discovery 
from  that  jobber.  Ask  the  digger  in  the  ditch  to  explain 
Newton's  laws ;  the  fine  organs  of  his  brain  have  been 
pinched  by  overwork  and  squalid  poverty  from  father  to 
son,  for  a  hundred  years.  When  each  comes  forth  from 
his  mother's  womb,  the  gate  of  gifts  closes  behind  him. 
Let  him  value  his  hands  and  feet,  he  has  but  one  pair. 
So  he  has  but  one  future",  and  that  is  already  predeter- 
mined in  his  lobes,  and  described  in  that  little  fatty  face, 
pig-eye,  and  squat  form.  All  the  privilege  and  all  the 
legislation  of  the  world  cannot  meddle  or  help  to  make  a 
poet  or  a  prince  of  him. 

Jesus  said,  "When  he  looketh  on  her,  he  hath  com- 
mitted adultery."  But  he  is  an  adulterer  before  he  has 
yet  looked  on  the  woman,  by  the  superfluity  of  animal, 
and  the  defect  of  thought  in  his  constitution.  Who 
meets  him,  or  who  meets  her,  in  the  street,  sees  that  they 
are  ripe  to  be  each  other's  victim. 

In  certain  men,  digestion  and  sex  absorb  the  vital 
force,  and  the  stronger  these  are,  the  individual  is  so 
much  weaker.  The  more  of  these  drones  perish,  the 
better  for  the  hive.  If,  later,  they  give  birth  to  some 
superior  individual,  with  force  enough  to  add  to  this  ani- 
mal a  new  aim,  and  a  complete  apparatus  to  work  it  out, 
all  the  ancestors  are  gladly  forgotten.  Most  men  and 
most  women  are  merely  one  couple  more.  Now  and 
then,  one  has  a  new  cell  or  camarilla  opened  in  his  brain, 
—  an  architectural,  a  musical,  or  a  philological  knack, 


16  CONDUCT    OF    LJFE. 

some  stray  taste  or  talent  for  flowers,  or  chemistry,  or 
pigments,  or  story-telling,  a  good  hand  for  drawing,  a 
good  foot  for  dancing,  an  athletic  frame  for  wide  jour- 
neying, etc.,  —  which  skill  nowise  alters  rank  in  the  scale 
of  nature,  but  serves  to  pass  the  time,  the  life  of  sensa- 
tion going  on  as  before.  At  last,  these  hints  and  tenden- 
cies are  fixed  in  one,  or  in  a  succession.  Each  absorbs 
so  much  food  and  force  as  to  become  itself  a  new  centre. 
The  new  talent  draws  off  so  rapidly  the  vital  force,  that 
not  enough  remains  for  the  animal  functions,  hardly 
enough  for  health  ;  so  that,  in  the  second  generation,  if 
the  like  genius  appear,  the  health  is  visibly  deteriorated, 
and  the  generative  force  impaired. 

People  are  born  with  the  moral  or  with  the  material 
bias ;  —  uterine  brol  hers  with  this  diverging  destination : 
and  I  suppose,  with  high  magnifiers,  Mr.  Frauenhofer 
or  Dr.  Carpenter  might  come  to  distinguish  in  the  em- 
bryo at  the  fourth  day,  this  is  a  Whig,  and  that  a  Free- 
Soiler. 

It  was  a  poetic  attempt  to  lift  this  mountain  of  Fate, 
to  reconcile  this  despotism  of  race  with  liberty,  which  led 
the  Hindoos  to  say,  "  Fate  is  nothing  but  the  deeds  com- 
mitted in  a  prior  state  of  existence."  I  find  the  coin- 
cidence of  the  extremes  of  Eastern  and  Western  specu- 
lation in  the  daring  statement  of  Schelliug,  "  There  is  in 
every  man  a  certain  feeling,  that  he  has  been  what  he 
is  from  all  eternity,  and  by  no  means  became  such  in 
time."  To  say  it  less  sublimely,  —  in  the  history  of 
the  individual  is  always  an  account  of  his  condition, 
and  he  knows  himself  to  be  a  party  to  his  present  es- 
tate. 


FATE.  17 

A  good  deal  of  our  politics  is  physiological.  Now  and 
then,  a  man  of  wealth  in  the  heyday  of  youth  adopts  the 
tenet  of  broadest  freedom.  In  England,  there  is  always 
some  man  of  wealth  and  large  connection  planting  him- 
self, during  all  his  years  of  health,  on  the  side  of  prog- 
ress, who,  as  soon  as  he  begins  to  die,  checks  his  for- 
ward play,  calls  in  his  troops,  and  becomes  conservative. 
All  conservatives  are  such  from  personal  defects.  They 
have  been  effeminated  by  position  or  nature,  born  halt 
and  blind,  through  luxury  of  their  parents,  and  can 
only,  like  invalids,  act  on  the  defensive.  But  strong 
natures,  backwoodsmen,  New  Hampshire  giants,  Napo- 
leons, Burkes,  Broughams,  Websters,  Kossuths,  are  in- 
evitable patriots,  until  their  life  ebbs,  and  their  defects 
and  gout,  palsy  and  money,  warp  them. 

The  strongest  idea  incarnates  itself  in  majorities  and 
nations,  in  the  healthiest  and  strongest.  Probably,  the 
election  goes  by  avoirdupois  weight,  and,  if  you  could 
weigh  bodily  the  tonnage  of  any  hundred  of  the  Whig 
and  the  Democratic  party  in  a  town  on  the  Dearborn 
balance,  as  they  passed  the  hayscales,  you  could  predict 
with  certainty  which  party  would  carry  it.  On  the 
whole,  it  would  be  rather  the  speediest  way  of  deciding 
the  vote,  to  put  the  selectmen  or  the  mayor  and  alder- 
men at  the  hayscales. 

In  science,  we  have  to  consider  two  things :  power  and 
circumstance.  All  we  know  of  the  egg,  from  each  suc- 
cessive discovery,  is,  another  vesicle ;  and  if,  after  five 
hundred  years,  you  get  a  better  observer,  or  a  better 
glass,  he  finds  within  the  last  observed  another.  In  vege- 
table and  animal  tissue,  it  is  just  alike,  and  all  that  the 

B 


18  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

primary  power  or  spasm  operates,  is,  still,  vesicles,  vesi- 
cles. Yes,  —  but  the  tyrannical  Circumstance !  A  vesi- 
cle in  new  circumstances,  a  vesicle  lodged  in  darkness, 
Oken  thought,  became  animal;  in  light,  a  plant.  Lodged 
in  the  parent  animal,  it  suffers  changes,  which  end  in 
unsheathing  miraculous  capability  in  the  unaltered  vesi- 
cle, and  it  unlocks  itself  to  fish,  bird,  or  quadruped,  head 
and  foot,  eye  and  claw.  The  Circumstance  is  Nature. 
Nature  is  what  you  may  do.  There  is  much  you  may 
not.  We  have  two  things, — the  circumstance  and  the 
life.  Once  we  thought,  positive  power  was  all.  Now 
we  learn  that  negative  power,  or  circumstance,  is  half. 
Nature  is  the  tyrannous  circumstance,  the  thick  skull, 
the  sheathed  snake,  the  ponderous,  rock-like  jaw  ;  neces- 
sitated activity;  violent  direction;  the  conditions  of  a 
tool,  like  the  locomotive,  strong  enough  on  its  track,  but 
which  can  do  nothing  but  mischief  off  of  it ;  or  skates, 
which  are  wings  on  the  ice,  but  fetters  on  the  ground. 

The  book  of  Nature  is  the  book  of  Fate.  She  turns 
the  gigantic  pages,  —  leaf  after  leaf,  —  never  re-turning 
one.  One  leaf  she  lays  down,  a  floor  of  granite;  then  a 
thousand  ages,  and  a  bed  of  slate  ;  a  thousand  ages,  and 
a  measure  of  coal ;  a  thousand  ages,  and  a  layer  of  marl 
and  mud :  vegetable  forms  appear :  her  first  misshapen 
animals,  zoophyte,  trilobium,  fish ;  then,  saurians,  — 
rude  forms,  in  which  she  has  only  blocked  her  future 
statue,  concealing  under  these  unwieldy  monsters  the  fine 
type  of  her  coming  king.  The  face  of  the  planet  cools 
and  dries,  the  races  meliorate,  and  man  is  born.  But 
when  a  race  has  lived  its  term,  it  comes  no  more 


FATE.  19 

The  population  of  the  world  is  a  conditional  popula- 
tion ;  not  the  best,  but  the  best  that  could  live  now ;  and 
the  scale  of  tribes,  and  the  steadiness  with  which  victory 
adheres  to  one  tribe,  and  defeat  to  another,  is  as  uniform 
as  the  superposition  of  strata.  We  know  in  history 
what  weight  belongs  to  race.  We  see  the  English, 
Trench,  and  Germans  planting  themselves  on  every  shore 
and  market  of  America  and  Australia,  and  monopolizing 
the  commerce  of  these  countries.  We  like  the  nervous 
and  victorious  habit  of  our  own  branch  of  the  family. 
We  follow  the  step  of  the  Jew,  of  the  Indian,  of  the 
Negro.  We  see  how  much  will  has  been  expended  to 
extinguish  the  Jew,  in  vain.  Look  at  the  unpalatable 
conclusions  of  Knox,  in  his  "  Fragment  of  Races,"  —  a 
rash  and  unsatisfactory  writer,  but  charged  with  pungent 
and  unforgetable  truths.  "Nature  respects  race,  and 
not  hybrids."  " Every  race  has  its  own  habitat"  " De- 
tach a  colony  from  the  race,  and  it  deteriorates  to 
the  crab."  See  the  shades  of  the  picture.  The  Ger- 
man and  Irish  millions,  like  the  Negro,  have  a  great 
deal  of  guano  in  their  destiny.  They  are  ferried  over 
the  Atlantic,  and  carted  over  America,  to  ditch  and  to 
drudge,  to  make  corn  cheap,  and  then  to  lie  down 
prematurely  to  make  a  spot  of  green  grass  on  the 
prairie. 

One  more  fagot  of  these  adamantine  bandages  is,  the 
new  science  of  Statistics.  It  is  a  rule,  that  the  most 
casual  and  extraordinary  events  —  if  the  basis  of  popula- 
tion is  broad  enough  —  become  matter  of  fixed  calcula- 
tion. It  would  not  be  safe  to  say  when  a  captain  like 
Bonaparte,  a  singer  like  Jenny  Lind,  or  a  navigator  like 


20  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Bowditch,  would  be  born  in  Boston :  but,  on  a  popula- 
tion of  twenty  or  two  hundred  millions,  something  like 
accuracy  may  be  had.* 

'T  is  frivolous  to  fix  pedantically  the  date  of  particular 
inventions.  They  have  all  been  invented  over  and  over 
fifty  times.  Man  is  the  arch  machine,  of  which  all  these 
shifts  drawn  from  himself  are  toy  models.  He  helps 
himself  on  each  emergency  by  copying  or  duplicating  his 
own  structure,  just  so  far  as  the  need  is.  'T  is  hard  to 
find  the  right  Homer,  Zoroaster,  or  Menu ;  harder  still 
to  find  the  Tubal  Cain,  or  Vulcan,  or  Cadmus,  or  Coper- 
nicus, or  Fust,  or  Fulton,  the  indisputable  inventor. 
There  are  scores  and  centuries  of  them.  "The  air  is 
full  of  men."  This  kind  of  talent  so  abounds,  this  con- 
structive tool-making  efficiency,  as  if  it  adhered  to  the 
chemic  atoms,  as  if  the  air  lie  breathes  were  made  of 
Vaucansons,  Franklins,  and  Watts. 

Doubtless,  in  every  million  there  will  be  an  astronomer, 
a  mathematician,  a  comic  poet,  a  mystic.  No  one  can 
read  the  history  of  astronomy,  without  perceiving  that 
Copernicus,  Newton,  Laplace,  are  not  new  men,  or  a  new 
kind  of  men,  but  that  Thales,  Anaximenes,  Hipparchus, 
Empedocles,  Aristarchus,  Pythagoras,  (Enipodes,  had  an- 
ticipated them  :  each  had  the  same  tense  geometrical  brain, 
apt  for  the  same  vigorous  computation  and  logic,  a  mind 

*  "  Everything  which  pertains  to  the  human  species,  consid- 
ered as  a  whole,  belongs  to  the  order  of  physical  facts.  The 
greater  the  number  of  individuals,  the  more  does  the  influence 
of  the  individual  will  disappear,  leaving  predominance  to  a  series 
of  general  facts  dependent  on  causes  by  which  society  exists,  and 
\s  preserved."  —  QUETELF.T. 


FATE.  21 

parallel  to  the  movement  of  the  world.  The  Roman 
mile  probably  rested  on  a  measure  of  a  degree  of  the  me- 
ridian. Mahometan  and  Chinese  know  what  we  know 
of  leap-year,  of  the  Gregorian  calendar,  and  of  the  preces- 
sion of  the  equinoxes.  As,  in  every  barrel  of  cowries, 
brought  to  New  Bedford,  there  shall  be  one  orangia,  so 
there  will,  in  a  dozen  millions  of  Malays  and  Mahome- 
tans, be  one  or  two  astronomical  skulls.  In  a  large  city, 
the  most  casual  things,  and  things  whose  beauty  lies  IL 
their  casualty,  are  produced  as  punctually  and  to  order 
as  the  baker's  muffin  for  breakfast.  Punch  makes  ex- 
actly one  capital  joke  a  week ;  and  the  journals  contrive 
to  furnish  one  good  piece  of  news  every  day. 

And  not  less  work  the  laws  of  repression,  the  penalties 
of  violated  functions.  Famine,  typhus,  frost,  war,  sui- 
cide, and  effete  races  must  be  reckoned  calculable  parts 
of  the  system  of  the  world. 

These  are  pebbles  from  the  mountain,  hints  of  the  terms 
by  which  our  life  is  walled  up,  and  which  show  a  kind  of 
mechanical  exactness,  as  of  a  loom  or  mill,  in  what  we  call 
casual  or  fortuitous  events. 

The  force  with  which  we  resist  these  torrents  of  ten- 
dency looks  so  ridiculously  inadequate,  that  it  amounts 
to  little  more  than  a  criticism  or  a  protest  made  by  a  mi- 
nority of  one,  under  compulsion  of  millions.  I  seemed, 
in  the  height  of  a  tempest,  to  see  men  overboard  strug- 
gling in  the  waves,  and  driven  about  here  and  there. 
They  glanced  intelligently  at  each  other,  but 't  was  little 
they  could  do  for  one  another ;  't  was  much  if  each  could 
keep  afloat  alone.  Well,  they  had  a  right  to  their  eye- 
beams,  and  all  the  rest  was  Fate. 


22  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

We  cannot  trifle  with  this  reality,  this  cropping-out  in 
our  planted  gardens  of  the  core  of  the  world.  No  pic- 
ture of  life  can  have  any  veracity  that  does  not  admit  the 
odious  facts.  A  man's  power  is  hooped  in  by  a  necessity 
which,  by  many  experiments,  he  touches  on  every  side, 
until  he  learns  its  arc. 

The  element  running  through  entire  nature,  which  we 
popularly  call  Fate,  is  known  to  us  as  limitation.  What- 
ever limits  us,  we  call  Fate.  If  we  are  brute  and  bar- 
barous, the  fate  takes  a  brute  and  dreadful  shape.  As 
we  refine,  our  cheeks  become  finer.  If  we  rise  to  spirit- 
ual culture,  the  antagonism  takes  a  spiritual  form.  In 
the  Hindoo  fables,  Vishnu  follows  Maya  through  all  her 
ascending  changes,  from  insect  and  craw-fish  up  to  ele- 
phant ;  whatever  form  she  took,  he  took  the  male  form  of 
that  kind,  until  she  became  at  last  woman  and  goddess, 
and  he  a  man  and  a  god.  The  limitations  refine  as  the 
soul  purifies,  but  the  ring  of  necessity  is  always  perched 
at  the  top. 

When  the  gods  in  the  Norse  heaven  were  unable  to 
bind  the  Fenris  Wolf  with  steel  or  with  weight  of  moun- 
tains, —  the  one  he  snapped  and  the  other  he  spurned 
with  his  heel,  —  they  put  round  his  foot  a  limp  band 
softer  than  silk  or  cobweb,  and  this  held  him  :  the  more 
he  spurned  it,  the  stiffer  it  drew.  So  soft  and  so  stanch 
is  the  ring  of  Fate.  Neither  brandy,  nor  nectar,  nor 
sulphuric  ether,  nor  hell-fire,  nor  ichor,  nor  poetry,  nor 
genius,  can  get  rid  of  this  limp  band.  For  if  we  give  it 
the  high  sense  in  which  the  poets  use  it,  even  thought 
itself  is  not  above  Fate  :  that  too  must  act  according  to 
eternal  laws,  and  all  that  is  wilful  and  fantastic  in  it  is  in 
o;n>osi'ioi)  *o  its  rnndnni"n*nl  rss-nre 


FATE.  23 

And  last  of  all,  high  over  thought,  in  the  world  of  mor- 
als, Fate  appears  as  vindicator,  levelling  the  high,  lifting 
the  low,  requiring  justice  in  man,  and  always  striking 
soon  or  late,  when  justice  is  not  done.  What  is  useful 
will  last ;  what  is  hurtful  will  sink.  "  The  doer  must  suf- 
fer," said  the  Greeks :  "  you  would  soothe  a  Deity  not  to 
be  soothed."  "  God  himself  cannot  procure  good  for  the 
wicked,"  said  the  Welsh  triad.  "  God  may  consent,  hut 
only  for  a  time,"  said  the  bard  of  Spain.  The  limitation 
is  impassable  by  any  insight  of  man.  In  its  last  and  lofti- 
est ascensions,  insight  itself,  and  the  freedom  of  the  will, 
is  one  of  its  obedient  members.  But  we  must  not  run  into 
generalizations  too  large,  but  show  the  natural  bounds  or 
essential  distinctions,  and  seek  to  do  justice  to  the  other 
elements  as  well. 

Thus  we  trace  Fate,  in  matter,  mind,  and  morals,  —  in 
race,  in  retardations  of  strata,  and  in  thought  and  charac- 
ter as  well.  It  is  everywhere  bound  or  limitation.  But 
Fate  has  its  lord ;  limitation  its  limits  ;  is  different  seen 
from  above  and  from  below ;  from  within  and  from  with- 
out. For,  though  fate  is  immense,  so  is  power,  which 
is  the  other  fact  in  the  dual  world,  immense.  If  Fate 
follows  and  limits  power,  power  attends  and  antagonizes 
Fate.  We  must  respect  Fate  as  natural  history,  but 
there  is  more  than  natural  history.  For  who  and  what 
is  this  criticism  that  pries  into  the  matter  ?  Man  is  not 
order  of  nature,  sack  and  sack,  belly  and  members,  link 
in  a  chain,  nor  any  ignominious  baggage,  but  a  stupen- 
dous antagonism,  a  dragging  together  of  the  poles  of  the 
Universe.  He  betrays  his  relation  to  what  is  below  him, 


24  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

—  thick-skulled,  small-brained,  fishy,  quadrumanous, — 
quadruped  ill-disguised,  hardly  escaped  into  biped,  and 
has  paid  for  the  new  powers  by  loss  of  some  of  the  old 
ones.  But  the  lightning  which  explodes  and  fashions 
planets,  maker  of  planet  and  suns,  is  in  him.  On  one 
side,  elemental  order,  sandstone  and  granite,  rock-ledges, 
peat-bog,  forest,  sea  and  shore ;  and,  on  the  other  part, 
thought,  the  spirit  which  composes  and  decomposes  na- 
ture, —  here  they  are,  side  by  side,  god  and  devil,  mind 
and  matter,  king  and  conspirator,  belt  and  spasm,  riding 
peacefully  together  in  the  eye  and  brain  of  every  man. 

Nor  can  he  blink  the  free-will.  To  hazard  the  contra- 
diction, —  freedom  is  necessary.  If  you  please  to  plant 
yourself  on  the  side  of  Fate,  and  say,  Pate  is  all ;  then 
we  say,  a  pail  of  Fate  is  the  freedom  of  man.  Forever 
wells  up  the  impulse  of  choosing  and  acting  in  the  soul. 
Intellect  annuls  Fate.  So  far  as  a  man  thinks,  he  is  free. 
And  though  nothing  is  more  disgusting  than  the  crowing 
about  liberty  by  slaves,  as  most  men  are,  and  the  flippant 
mistaking  for  freedom  of  some  paper  preamble  like  a 
"  Declaration  of  Independence,"  or  the  statute  right  to 
vote,  by  those  who  have  never  dared  to  think  or  to  act, 
yet  it  is  wholesome  to  man  to  look  not  at  Fate,  but  the 
other  way  :  the  practical  view  is  the  other.  His  sound 
relation  to  these  facts  is  to  use  and  command,  not  to 
cringe  to  them.  "  Look  not  on  Nature,  for  her  name  is 
fatal,"  said  the  oracle.  The  too  much  contemplation  of 
these  limits  induces  meanness.  They  who  talk  much  of 
destiny,  their  birth-star,  etc.,  are  in  a  lower  dangerous 
plane,  and  invite  the  evils  they  frar. 

1  cited  the  instinctive  and  heroic  races  as  proud  belie v- 


FATE.  25 

ers  in  Destiny.  They  conspire  with  it ;  a  loving  resigna- 
tion is  with  the  event.  But  the  dogma  makes  a  different 
impression,  when  it  is  held  by  the  weak  and  lazy.  'T  is 
weak  and  vicious  people  who  cast  the  blame  on  Fate. 
The  right  use  of  Fate  is  to  bring  up  our  conduct  to  the 
loftiness  of  nature.  Rude  and  invincible  except  by  them- 
selves are  the  elements.  So  let  man  be.  Let  him  empty 
his  breast  of  his  windy  conceits,  and  show  his  lordship  by 
manners  and  deeds  on  the  scale  of  nature.  Let  him  hold 
his  purpose  as  with  the  tug  of  gravitation.  No  power, 
no  persuasion,  no  bribe,  shall  make  him  give  up  his  point. 
A.  man  ought  to  compare  advantageously  with  a  river,  an 
oak,  or  a  mountain.  He  shall  have  not  less  the  flow,  the 
expansion,  and  the  resistance  of  these. 

'T  is  the  best  use  of  Fate  to  teach  a  fatal  courage.  Go 
face  the  fire  at  sea,  or  the  cholera  in  your  friend's  house, 
or  the  burglar  in  your  own,  or  what  danger  lies  in  the 
way  of  duty,  knowing  you  are  guarded  by  the  cherubim 
of  Destiny.  If  you  believe  in  Fate  to  your  harm,  believe 
it,  at  least,  for  your  good. 

For,  if  Fate  is  so  prevailing,  man  also  is  part  of  it,  and 
can  confront  fate  with  fate.  If  the  Universe  have  these 
savage  accidents,  our  atoms  are  as  savage  in  resistance. 
We  should  be  crushed  by  the  atmosphere,  but  for  the 
reaction  of  the  air  within  the  body.  A  tube  made  of  a 
film  of  glass  can  resist  the  shock  of  the  ocean,  if  filled 
with  the  same  water.  If  there  be  omnipotence  in  the 
stroke,  there  is  omnipotence  of  recoil. 

1.  But  Fate  against  Fate  is  only  parrying  and  defence: 
there  are,  also,  the  noble  creative  forces.  The  revelation 
of  Thought  takes  man  out  of  servitude  into  freedom.  We 


26  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

rightly  say  of  ourselves,  we  were  born,  and  afterward  we 
were  born  again,  and  many  times.  We  have  successive 
experiences  so  important,  that  the  new  forgets  the  old, 
and  hence  the  mythology  of  the  seven  or  the  nine  heav- 
ens. The  day  of  days,  the  great  day  of  the  feast  of  life, 
is  that  in  which  the  inward  eye  opens  to  the  Unity  in 
things,  to  the  omnipresence  of  law ;  —  sees  that  what  is 
must  be,  and  ought  to  be,  or  is  the  best.  This  beatitude 
dips  from  on  high  down  on  us,  and  we  see.  It  is  not  in 
us  so  much  as  we  are  in  it.  If  the  air  come  to  our  lungs, 
we  breathe  and  live ;  if  not,  we  die.  If  the  light  come 
to  our  eyes,  we  see ;  else  not.  And  if  truth  come  to  our 
mind,  we  suddenly  expand  to  its  dimensions,  as  if  we  grew 
to  worlds.  We  are  as  lawgivers ;  we  speak  for  Nature  ; 
we  prophesy  and  divine. 

This  insight  throws  us  on  the  party  and  interest  of  the 
Universe,  against  all  and  sundry ;  against  ourselves,  as 
much  as  others.  A  man  speaking  from  insight  affirms  of 
himself  what  is  true  of  the  mind :  seeing  its  immortality, 
he  says,  I  am  immortal ;  seeing  its  invincibility,  he  says, 
I  am  strong.  It  is  not  in  us,  but  we  are  in  it.  It  is  of 
the  maker,  not  of  what  is  made.  All  things  are  touched 
and  changed  by  it.  This  uses,  and  is  not  used.  It  dis- 
tances those  who  share  it,  from  those  who  share  it  not. 
Those  who  share  it  not  are  flocks  and  herds.  It  dates 
from  itself;  —  not  from  former  men  or  better  men, — 
gospel,  or  constitution,  or  college,  or  custom.  Where  it 
shines,  Nature  is  no  longer  intrusive,  but  all  things  make 
a  musical  or  pictorial  impression.  The  world  of  men 
show  like  a  comedy  without  laughter:  populations,  in- 
terests, government,  history ;  't  is  all  toy  figures  in  a  toy 


FATE.  27 

house.  It  does  not  overvalue  particular  truths.  We 
hear  eagerly  every  thought  and  word  quoted  from  an  in- 
tellectual man.  But,  in  his  presence,  our  own  mind  is 
roused  to  activity,  and  we  forget  very  fast  what  he  says, 
much  more  interested  in  the  new  play  of  our  own  thought, 
than  in  any  thought  of  his.  'T  is  the  majesty  into  which 
we  have  suddenly  mounted,  the  impersonality,  the  scorn 
of  egotisms,  the  sphere  of  laws,  that  engage  us.  Once 
we  were  stepping  a  little  this  way,  and  a  little  that  way ; 
now,  we  are  as  men  in  a  balloon,  and  do  not  think  so 
much  of  the  point  we  have  left,  or  the  point  we  would 
make,  as  of  the  liberty  and  glory  of  the  way. 

Just  as  much  intellect  as  you  add,  so  much  organic 
power.  He  who  sees  through  the  design,  presides  over 
it,  and  must  will  that  which  must  be.  We  sit  and  rule, 
and,  though  we  sleep,  our  dream  will  come  to  pass.  Our 
thought,  though  it  were  only  an  hour  old,  affirms  an  old- 
est necessity,  not  to  be  separated  from  thought,  and  not 
to  be  separated  from  will.  They  must  always  have  co- 
existed. It  apprises  us  of  its  sovereignty  and  godhead, 
which  refuse  to  be  severed  from  it.  It  is  not  mine  or 
thine,  but  the  will  of  all  mind.  It  is  poured  into  the 
souls  of  all  men,  as  the  soul  itself  which  constitutes  them 
men.  I  know  not  whether  there  be,  as  is  alleged,  in  the 
upper  region  of  our  atmosphere,  a  permanent  westerly 
current,  which  carries  with  it  all  atoms  which  rise  to  that 
height,  but  I  see,  that  when  souls  reach  a  certain  clear- 
ness of  perception,  they  accept  a  knowledge  and  motive 
above  selfishness.  A  breath  of  will  blows  eternally 
through  the  universe  of  souls  in  the  direction  of  the 
Right  and  Necessary.  It  is  the  air  which  all  intellects 


28  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

inhale  and  exhale,  and  it  is  the  wind  which  blows  the 
worlds  into  order  and  orbit. 

Thought  dissolves  the  material  universe,  by  carrying 
the  mind  up  into  a  sphere  where  all  is  plastic.  Of  two 
men,  each  obeying  his  own  thought,  he  whose  thought  is 
deepest  will  be  the  strongest  character.  Always  one  man 
more  than  another  represents  the  will  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence to  the  period. 

2.  If  thought  makes  free,  so  does  the  moral  senti- 
ment. The  mixtures  of  spiritual  chemistry  refuse  to  be 
analyzed.  Yet  we  can  see  that  with  the  perception  of 
truth  is  joined  the  desire  that  it  shall  prevail.  That  af- 
fection is  essential  to  will.  Moreover,  when  a  strong  will 
appears,  it  usually  results  from  a  certain  unity  of  organi- 
zation, as  if  the  whole  energy  of  body  and  mind  flowed 
in  one  direction.  All  great  force  is  real  and  elemental. 
There  is  no  manufacturing  a  strong  will.  There  must 
be  a  pound  to  balance  a  pound.  Where  power  is  shown 
in  will,  it  must  rest  on  the  universal  force.  Alaric  and 
Bonaparte  must  believe  they  rest  on  a  truth,  or  their  will 
can  be  bought  or  bent.  There  is  a  bribe  possible  for  any 
finite  will.  But  the  pure  sympathy  with  universal  ends 
is  an  infinite  force,  and  cannot  be  bribed  or  bent.  Who- 
ever has  had  experience  of  the  moral  sentiment  cannot 
choose  but  believe  in  unlimited  power.  Each  pulse  from 
that  heart  is  an  oath  from  the  Most  High.  I  know  not 
what  the  word  sublime  means,  if  it  be  not  the  intimations 
in  this  infant  of  a  terrific  force.  A  text  of  heroism,  a 
name  and  anecdote  of  courage,  are  not  arguments,  but 
sallies  of  freedom.  One  of  these  is  the  verse  of  the  Per- 
sian Hafiz,  "  'T  is  written  on  the  gate  of  heaven,  '  Woe 


FATE.  29 

unto  him  who  suffers  himself  to  be  betrayed  by  Fate  ! '  " 
Does  the  reading  of  history  make  us  fatalists  ?  What 
courage  does  not  the  opposite  opinion  show !  A  little 
whim  of  will  to  be  free  gallantly  contending  against  the 
universe  of  chemistry. 

But  insight  is  not  will,  nor  is  affection  will.  Percep- 
tion is  cold,  and  goodness  dies  in  wishes ;  as  Voltaire 
said,  't  is  the  misfortune  of  worthy  people  that  they  are 
cowards  ;  "  un  des  plus  grands  malheurs  des  honnetes  ffens 
c'est  qu'ils  sont  des  laches."  There  must  be  a  fusion  of 
these  two  to  generate  the  energy  of  will.  There  can  be 
no  driving  force,  except  through  the  conversion  of  the 
man  into  his  will,  making  him  the  will,  and  the  will  him. 
And  one  may  say  boldly,  that  no  man  has  a  right  percep- 
tion of  any  truth,  who  has  not  been  reacted  on  by  it,  so 
as  to  be  ready  to  be  its  martyr. 

The  one  serious  and  formidable  thing  in  nature  is  a 
will.  Society  is  servile  from  want  of  will,  and  therefore 
the  world  wants  saviours  and  religions.  One  way  is 
right  to  go :  the  hero  sees  it,  and  moves  on  that  aim,  and 
has  the  world  under  him  for  root  and  support.  He  is  to 
others  as  the  world.  His  approbation  is  honor ;  his  dis- 
sent, infamy.  The  glance  of  his  eye  has  the  force  of  sun- 
beams. A  personal  influence  towers  up  in  memory  only 
worthy,  and  we  gladly  forget  numbers,  money,  climate, 
gravitation,  and  the  rest  of  Fate. 

We  can  afford  to  allow  the  limitation,  if  we  know  it  is 
the  meter  of  the  growing  man.  We  stand  against  Fate, 
as  children  stand  up  against  the  wall  in  their  father's 
house,  and  notch  their  height  from  year  to  year.  But 


30  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

when  the  boy  grows  to  man,  and  is  master  of  the  house, 
he  pulls  down  that  wall,  and  builds  a  new  and  bigger. 
'T  is  only  a  question  of  time.  Every  brave  youth  is  in 
training  to  ride  and  rule  this  dragon.  His  science  is  to 
make  weapons  and  wings  of  these  passions  and  retarding 
forces.  Now  whether,  seeing  these  two  things,  fate  and 
power,  we  are  permitted  to  believe  in  unity  ?  The  bulk 
of  mankind  believe  in  two  gods.  They  are  under  one  do- 
minion here  in  the  house,  as  friend  and  parent,  in  social 
circles,  in  letters,  in  art,  in  love,  in  religion  :  but  in  me- 
chanics, in  dealing  with  steam  and  climate,  in  trade,  in 
politics,  they  think  they  come  under  another ;  and  that 
it  would  be  a  practical  blunder  to  transfer  the  method 
and  way  of  working  of  one  sphere,  into  the  other.  What 
good,  honest,  generous  men  at  home  will  be  wolves  and 
foxes  on  change  !>  What  pious  men  in  the  parlor  will 
vote  for  what  reprobates  at  the  polls !  To  a  certain  point, 
they  believe  themselves  the  care  of  a  Providence.  But, 
in  a  steamboat,  in  an  epidemic,  in  war,  they  believe  a 
malignant  energy  rules. 

But  relation  and  connection  are  not  somewhere  and 
sometimes,  but  everywhere  and  always.  The  divine  or- 
der does  not  stop  where  their  sight  stops.  The  friendly 
power  works  on  the  same  rules,  in  the  next  farm,  and 
the  next  planet.  But,  where  they  have  not  experience, 
they  run  against  it,  and  hurt  themselves.  Fate,  then,  is 
a  name  for  facts  not  yet  passed  under  the  fire  of  thought ; 
for  causes  which  are  unpenetrated. 

But  every  jet  of  chaos  which  threatens  to  exterminate 
us  is  convertible  by  intellect  into  wholesome  force. 
Fate  is  unpenetrated  causes.  The  water  drowns  ship  and 


FATE.  31 

sailor,  like  a  grain  of  dust.  But  learn  to  swim,  trim 
your  bark,  and  the  wave  which  drowned  it  will  be  cloven 
by  it,  and  carry  it,  like  its  own  foam,  a  pluine  and  a 
power.  The  cold  is  inconsiderate  of  persons,  tingles 
your  blood,  freezes  a  man  like  a  dewdrop.  But  learn  to 
skate,  and  the  ice  will  give  you  a  graceful,  sweet,  and 
poetic  motion.  The  cold  will  brace  your  limbs  and  brain 
to  genius,  and  make  you  foremost  men  of  time.  Cold 
and  sea  will  train  an  imperial  Saxon  race,  which  nature 
cannot  bear  to  lose,  and,  after  cooping  it  up  for  a  thou- 
sand years  in  yonder  England,  gives  a  hundred  Englands, 
a  hundred  Mexicos.  All  the  bloods  it  shall  absorb  and 
domineer  :  and  more  than  Mexicos, —  the  secrets  of  water 
and  steam,  the  spasms  of  electricity,  the  ductility  of 
metals,  the  chariot  of  the  air,  the  ruddered  balloon,  are 
awaiting  you. 

The  annual  slaughter  from  typhus  far  exceeds  that  of 
war ;  but  right  drainage  destroys  typhus.  The  plague  in 
the  sea-service  from  scurvy  is  healed  by  lemon-juice  and 
other  diets  portable  or  procurable :  the  depopulation  by 
cholera  and  small-pox  is  ended  by  drainage  and  vaccina- 
tion; and  every  other  pest  is  not  less  in  the  chain  of 
cause  and  effect,  and  may  be  fought  off.  And,  whilst  art 
draws  out  the  venom,  it  commonly  extorts  some  benefit 
from  the  vanquished  enemy.  The  mischievous  torrent  is 
taught  to  drudge  for  man :  the  wild  beasts  he  makes  use- 
ful for  food,  or  dress,  or  labor ;  the  chemic  explosions 
are  controlled  like  his  watch.  These  are  now  the  steeds 
on  which  he  rides.  Man  moves  in  all  modes,  by  legs  of 
horses,  by  wings  of  wind,  by  steam,  by  gas  of  balloon,  by 
electricity,  and  stands  on  tiptoe  threatening  to  hunt  the 


32  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

eagle  in  his  own  element.  There  's  nothing  he  will  not 
make  his  carrier. 

Steam  was,  till  the  other  day,  the  devil  which  we 
dreaded.  Every  pot  made  by  any  human  potter  or  bra- 
zier had  a  hole  in  its  cover,  to  let  off  the  enemy,  lest  he 
should  lift  pot  and  roof,  and  carry  the  house  away.  But 
the  Marquis  of  Worcester,  Watt,  and  Fulton  bethought 
themselves,  that,  where  was  power,  was  not  devil,  but 
was  God ;  that  it  must  be  availed  of,  and  not  by  any 
means  let  off  and  wasted.  Could  he  lift  pots  and  roofs 
and  houses  so  handily  ?  he  was  the  workman  they  were 
in  search  of.  He  could  be  used  .to  lift  away,  chain,  and 
compel  other  devils  far  more  reluctant  and  dangerous, 
namely,  cubic  miles  of  earth,  mountains,  weight  or  resist- 
ance of  water,  machinery,  and  the  labors  of  all  men  in 
the  world ;  and  time  he  shall  lengthen,  and  shorten  space. 

It  has  not  fared  much  otherwise  with  higher  kinds  of 
steam.  The  opinion  of  the  million  was  the  terror  of  tha 
world,  and  it  was  attempted,  either  to  dissipate  it,  by 
amusing  nations,  or  to  pile  it  over  with  strata  of  society, 
—  a  layer  of  soldiers ;  over  that,  a  layer  of  lords  ;  and  a 
king  on  the  top  ;  with  clamps  and  hoops  of  castles,  garri- 
sons, and  police.  But,  sometimes,  the  religious  principle 
would  get  in,  and  burst  the  hoops,  and  ride  every  moun- 
tain laid  on  top  of  it.  The  Fultons  and  Watts  of  poli- 
tics, believing  in  unity,  saw  that  it  was  a  power,  and,  by 
satisfying  it  (as  justice  satisfies  everybody),  through  a 
different  disposition  of  society,  —  grouping  it  on  a  level, 
instead  of  piling  it  into  a  mountain, —  they  have  contrived 
to  make  of  this  terror  the  most  harmless  and  energetic 
form  of  a  State. 


FATE.  33 

Very  odious,  I  confess,  are  the  lessons  of  Fate.  Who 
likes  to  have  a  dapper  phrenologist  pronouncing  on  his 
fortunes  ?  Who  likes  to  believe  that  he  has  hidden  in 
his  skull,  spine,  and  pelvis  all  the  vices  of  a  Saxon  or 
Celtic  race,  which  will  be  sure  to  pull  him  down  —  with 
what  grandeur  of  hope  and  resolve  he  is  fired  —  into  a 
selfish,  huckstering,  servile,  dodging  animal  ?  A  learned 
physician  tells  us,  the  fact  is  invariable  with  the  Neapoli- 
tan, that,  when  mature,  he  assumes  the  forms  of  the  un- 
mistakable scoundrel.  That  is  a  little  overstated,  —  but 
may  pass. 

But  these  are  magazines  and  arsenals.  A  man  must 
thank  his  defects,  and  stand  in  some  terror  of  his  talents. 
A  transcendent  talent  draws  so  largely  on  his  forces,  as 
to  lame  him ;  a  defect  pays  him  revenues  on  the  other 
side.  The  sufferance,  which  is  the  badge  of  the  Jew,  has 
made  him,  in  these  days,  the  ruler  of  the  rulers  of  the 
earth.  If  Pate  is  ore  and  quarry,  if  evil  is  good  in  the 
making,  if  limitation  is  power  that  shall  be,  if  calamities, 
oppositions,  and  weights  are  wings  and  means,  —  we  are 
reconciled. 

Eate  involves  the  melioration.  No  statement  of  the 
Universe  can  have  any  soundness,  which  does  not  admit 
its  ascending  effort.  The  direction  of  the  whole,  and  of 
the  parts,  is  toward  benefit,  and  in  proportion  to  the 
health.  Behind  every  individual  closes  organization ;  be- 
fore him  opens  liberty,  —  the  Better,  the  Best.  The  first 
and  worst  races  are  dead.  The  second  and  imperfect 
races  are  dying  out,  or  remain  for  the  maturing  of  higher. 
In  the  latest  race,  in  man,  every  generosity,  every  new 
perception,  the  love  and  praise  he  extorts  from  his  fel- 
2*  c 


34  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

lows,  are  certificates  of  advance  out  of  fate  into  freedom. 
Liberation  of  the  will  from  the  sheaths  and  clogs  of 
organization  which  he  has  outgrown,  is  the  end  and  aim 
of  this  world.  Every  calamity  is  a  spur  and  valuable 
hint;  and  where  his  endeavors  do  not  yet  fully  avail, 
they  tell  as  tendency.  The  whole  circle  of  animal  life,  — 
tooth  against  tooth,  —  devouring  war,  war  for  food,  a 
yelp  of  pain  and  a  grunt  of  triumph,  until,  at  last,  the 
whole  menagerie,  the  whole  chemical  mass  is  mellowed 
and  refined  for  higher  use,  —  pleases  at  a  sufficient  per- 
spective. 

But  to  see  how  fate  slides  into  freedom,  and  freedom 
into  fate,  observe  how  far  the  roots  of  every  creature  run, 
or  find,  if  you  can,  a  point  where  there  is  no  thread  of 
connection.  Our  life  is  consentaneous  and  far-related. 
This  knot  of  nature  is  so  well  tied,  that  nobody  was  ever 
cunning  enough  to  find  the  two  ends.  Nature  is  intri- 
cate, overlapped,  interweaved,  and  endless.  Christopher 
Wren  said  of  the  beautiful  King's  College  chapel,  "  that, 
if  anybody  would  tell  him  where  to  lay  the  first  stone, 
he  would  build  such  another."  But  where  shall  we  find 
the  first  atom  in  this  house  of  man,  which  is  all  consent, 
inosculation,  and  balance  of  parts  ? 

The  web  of  relation  is  shown  in  habitat,  shown  in 
hibernation.  When  hibernation  was  observed,  it  was 
found,  that,  whilst  some  animals  became  torpid  in  win- 
ter, others  were  torpid  in  summer :  hibernation  then  was 
a  false  name.  The  long  sleep  is  not  an  effect  of  cold,  but 
is  regulated  by  the  supply  of  food  proper  to  the  animal. 
It  becomes  torpid  when  the  fruit  or  prey  it  lives  on  is  not 
in  season,  and  regains  its  activity  when  its  food  is  ready. 


FATE.  35 

Eyes  are  found  in  light ;  ears  in  auricular  air ;  feet  on 
land;  fins  in  water;  wings  in  air;  and  each  creature 
where  it  was  meant  to  be,  with  a  mutual  fitness.  Every 
zone  has  its  own  Fauna.  There  is  adjustment  between 
the  animal  and  its  food,  its  parasite,  its  enemy.  Balances 
are  kept.  It  is  not  allowed  to  diminish  in  numbers,  nor 
to  exceed.  The  like  adjustments  exist  for  man.  His 
food  is  cooked,  when  lie  arrives ;  his  coal  in  the  pit ;  his 
house  ventilated  ;  the  mud  of  the  deluge  dried ;  his  com- 
panions arrived  at  the  same  hour,  and  awaiting  him  with 
love,  concert,  laughter,  and  tears.  These  are  coarse 
adjustments,  but  the  invisible  are  not  less.  There  are 
more  belongings  to  every  creature  than  his  air  and  his 
food.  His  instincts  must  be  met,  and  he  has  predispos- 
ing power  that  bends  and  fits  what  is  near  him  to  his  use. 
He  is  not  possible  until  the  invisible  things  are  right  for 
him,  as  well  as  the  visible.  Of  what  changes,  then,  iu 
sky  and  earth,  and  in  finer  skies  and  earths,  does  the 
appearance  of  some  Dante  or  Columbus  apprise  us  ! 

How  is  this  effected  ?  Nature  is  no  spendthrift,  but 
takes  the  shortest  way  to  her  ends.  As  the  general  says 
to  his  soldiers,  "  If  you  want  a  fort,  build  a  fort,"  so 
nature  makes  every  creature  do  its  own  work  and  get  its 
living,  —  is  it  planet,  animal,  or  tree.  The  planet  makes 
itself.  The  animal  cell  makes  itself;  —  then,  what  it 
wants.  Every  creature  —  wren  or  dragon  —  shall  make 
its  own  lair.  As  soon  as  there  is  life,  there  is  self-direc- 
tion, and  absorbing  and  using  of  material.  Life  is  free- 
dom, —  life  in  the  direct  ratio  of  its  amount.  You  may 
be  sure  the  new-born  man  is  not  inert.  Life  works  both 
voluntarily  and  supernaturally  in  its  neighborhood  Do 


36  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

you  suppose  he  can  be  estimated  by  his  weight  in  pounds, 
or  that  he  is  contained  in  his  skin,  —  this  reaching,  radi- 
ating, jaculating  fellow  ?  The  smallest  candle  fills  a  mile 
with  its  rays,  and  the  papilla;  of  a  man  run  out  to  every 
star. 

When  there  is  something  to  be  done,  the  world  knows 
how  to  get  it  done.  The  vegetable  eye  makes  leaf,  peri- 
carp, root,  bark,  or  thorn,  as  the  need  is;  the  first  cell 
converts  itself  into  stomach,  mouth,  nose,  or  nail,  accord- 
ing to  the  want :  the  world  throws  its  life  into  a  hero  or 
a  shepherd ;  and  puts  him  where  he  is  wanted.  Dante 
and  Columbus  were  Italians,  in  their  time  :  they  would 
be  Russians  or  Americans  to-day.  Things  ripen,  new 
men  come.  The  adaptation  is  not  capricious.  The 
ulterior  aim,  the  purpose  beyond  itself,  the  correlation 
by  which  planets  subside  and  crystallize,  then  animate 
beasts  and  men,  will  not  stop,  but  will  work  into  finer 
particulars,  and  from  finer  to  finest. 

The  secret  of  the  world  is,  the  tie  between  person  and 
event.  Person  makes  event,  and  event  person.  The 
"times,"  "the  age,"  M'hat  is  that,  but  a  few  profound 
persons  and  a  few  active  persons  who  epitomize  the 
times?  —  Goethe,  Hegel,  Metternich,  Adams,  Calhoun, 
Guizot,  Peel,  Cobden,  Kossuth,  Rothschild,  Astor,  Bru- 
nei, and  the  rest.  The  same  fitness  must  be  presumed 
between  a  man  and  the  time  and  event,  as  between  the 
sexes,  or  between  a  race  of  animals  and  the  food  it  eats, 
or  the  inferior  races  it  uses.  He  thinks  his  fate  alien, 
because  the  copula  is  hidden.  But  the  soul  contains  the 
sveut  that  shall  befall  it,  for  the  event  is  only  the  actual- 
ization of  its  thoughts ;  and  what  we  pray  to  ourselves 


FATE.  37 

for  is  always  granted.  The  event  is  the  print  of  your 
form.  It  fits  you  like  your  skin.  What  each  does  is 
proper  to  him.  Events  are  the  children  of  his  body  and 
mind.  "We  learn  that  the  soul  of  Fate  is  the  soul  of  us, 
as  Hafiz  sings, 

Alas  !  till  now  I  had  not  known, 
My  guide  and  fortune's  guide  are  one. 

All  the  toys  that  infatuate  men,  and  which  they  play  for, 
—  houses,  land,  money,  luxury,  power,  fame,  —  are  the 
selfsame  thing,  witli  a  new  gauze  or  two  of  illusion  over- 
laid. And  of  all  the  drums  and  rattles  by  which  men  are 
made  willing  to  have  their  heads  broke,  and  are  led  out 
solemnly  every  morning  to  parade,  the  most  admirable  is 
this  by  which  we  are  brought  to  believe  that  events  are 

'  arbitrary,  and  independent  of  actions.  At  the  conjurer's, 
we  detect  the  hair  by  which  he  moves  his  puppet,  but  we 
have  not  eyes  sharp  enough  to  descry  the  thread  that 
ties  cause  and  effect. 

Nature  magically  suits  the  man  to  his  fortunes,  by 
making  these  the  fruit  of  his  character.  Ducks  take  to 
the  water,  eagles  to  the  sky,  waders  to  the  sea  margin, 
hunters  to  the  forest,  clerks  to  counting-rooms,  soldiers 
to  the  frontier.  Thus  events  grow  on  the  same  stem 

1  with  persons ;  are  sub-persons.  The  pleasure  of  life  is 
according  to  the  man  that  lives  it,  and  not  according  to 
the  work  or  the  place.  Life  is  an  ecstasy.  We  know 
what  madness  belongs  to  love, — what  power  to  paint 
a  vile  object  in  hues  of  heaven.  As  insane  persons  are 
indifferent  to  their  dress,  diet,  and  other  accommodations, 
and,  as  we  do  in  dreams,  with  equanimity,  the  most  ab- 


38  CONDUCT    OF    LIKE. 

surd  acts,  so,  a  drop  more  of  wine  in  our  cup  of  life  will 
reconcile  us  to  strange  company  and  work.  Each  crea- 
ture puts  forth  from  itself  its  own  condition  and  sphere, 
as  the  slug  sweats  out  its  slimy  house  on  the  pear- 
leaf,  and  the  woolly  aphides  on  the  apple  perspire  their 
own  bed,  and  the  fish  its  shell.  In  youth,  we  clothe 
ourselves  with  rainbows,  and  go  as  brave  as  the  zodiac. 
In  age,  we  put  out  another  sort  of  perspiration,  —  gout, 
fever,  rheumatism,  caprice,  doubt,  fretting,  and  avarice. 

A  man's  fortunes  are  the  fruit  of  his  character.  A 
man's  friends  are  his  magnetisms.  We  go  to  Herodotus 
and  Plutarch  for  examples  of  Fate ;  but  we  are  examples. 
"  Qaisque  suos  patimur  manes."  The  tendency  of  every 
man  to  enact  all  that  is  in  his  constitution  is  expressed  in 
the  old  belief,  that  the  efforts  which  we  make  to  escape 
from  our  destiny  only  serve  to  lead  us  into  it :  and  I  have 
noticed,  a  man  likes  better  to  be  complimented  on  his 
position,  as  the  proof  of  the  last  or  total  excellence,  than 
on  his  merits. 

A  man  will  see  his  character  emitted  in  the  events  that 
seem  to  meet,  but  which  exude  from  and  accompany  him. 
Events  expand  with  the  character.  As  once  he  found 
himself  among  toys,  so  now  he  plays  a  part  in  colossiil 
systems,  and  his  growth  is  declared  in  his  ambition,  his 
companions,  and  his  performance.  He  looks  like  a  piece 
of  luck,  but  is  a  piece  of  causation;  the  mosaic,  angu- 
lated  and  ground  to  fit  into  the  gap  he  fills.  Hence  in 
each  town  there  is  some  man  who  is,  in  his  brain  and 
performance,  an  explanation  of  the  tillage,  production, 
factories,  banks,  churches,  ways  of  living,  and  society,  of 
that  town.  If  you  Jo  not  chance  to  meet  him,  all  that  you 


FATE.  39 

see  will  leave  you  a  little  puzzled :  if  you  see  him,  it  will 
become  plain.  We  know  in  Massachusetts  who  built  New 
Bedford,  who  built  Lynn,  Lowell,  Lawrence,  Clinton, 
Fitchburg,  Holyoke,  Portland,  and  many  another  noisy 
mart.  Each  of  these  men,  if  they  were  transparent,  would 

'  seem  to  you  not  so  much  men,  as  walking  cities,  and, 
wherever  you  put  them,  they  would  build  one. 

History  is  the  action  and  reaction  of  these  two,  —  Na- 

'  ture  and  Thought ;  two  boys  pushing  each  other  on  the 
curbstone  of  the  pavement.  Everything  is  pusher  or 
pushed :  and  matter  and  mind  are  in  perpetual  tilt  and 
balance,  so.  Whilst  the  man  is  weak,  the  earth  takes  up 
to  him.  He  plants  his  brain  and  affections.  By  and 
by  he  will  take  up  the  earth,  and  have  his  gardens  and 
vineyards  in  the  beautiful  order  and  productiveness  of 
his  thought.  Every  solid  in  the  universe  is  ready  to  be- 
come fluid  on  the  approach  of  the  mind,  and  the  power  to 
flux  it  is  the  measure  of  the  mind.  If  the  wall  remain 
adamant,  it  accuses  the  want  of  thought.  To  a  subtler 
force,  it  will  stream  into  new  forms,  expressive  of  the 
character  of  the  mind.  What  is  the  city  in  which  we  sit 
here,  but  an  aggregate  of  incongruous  materials,  which 
have  obeyed  the  will  of  some  man?  The  granite  was 
reluctant,  but*his  hands  were  stronger,  and  it  came. 
Iron  was  deep  in  the  ground,  and  well  combined  witli 
stone,  but  could  not  hide  from  his  fires.  Wood,  lime, 
stuffs,  fruits,  gums,  were  dispersed  over  the  earth  and  sea, 
in  vain.  Here  they  are,  within  reach  of  every  man's  day- 
labor, —  what  he  wants  of  them.  The  whole  world  is 

i  the  flux  of  matter  over  the  wires  of  thought  to  the  poles 
or  points  where  it  would  build.  The  races  of  men  rise 


40  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

out  of  the  ground  preoccupied  with  a  thought  which 
rules  them,  and  divided  into  parties  ready  armed  and 
angry  to  fight  for  this  metaphysical  abstraction.  The 
quality  of  the  thought  differences  the  Egyptian  and  the 
Roman,  the  Austrian  and  the  American.  The  men  who 
come  on  the  stage  at  one  period  are  all  found  to  be  re- 
lated to  each  other.  Certain  ideas  are  in  the  air.  We 
are  all  impressionable,  for  we  are  made  of  them  ;  all  im- 
pressionable, but  some  more  than  others,  and  these  first 
express  them.  This  explains  the  curious  contempora- 
neousness of  inventions  and  discoveries.  The  truth  is  in 
the  air,  and  the  most  impressionable  brain  will  announce 
it  first,  but  all  will  announce  it  a  few  minutes  later.  So 
women,  as  most  susceptible,  are  the  best  index  of  the 
coming  hour.  So  the  great  man,  that  is,  the  man  most 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  time,  is  the  impressionable 
man,  —  of  a  fibre  irritable  and  delicate,  like  iodine  to 
light.  He  feels  the  infinitesimal  attractions.  His  mind 
is  righter  than  others,  because  he  yields  to  a  current  so 
feeble  as  can  be  felt  only  by  a  needle  delicately  poised. 

The  correlation  is  shown  in  defects.  Moller,  in  his 
Essay  on  Architecture,  taught  that  the  building  which 
was  fitted  accurately  to  answer  its  end  would  turn  out 
to  be  beautiful,  though  beauty  had  not  bean  intended.  I 
find  the  like  unity  in  human  structures  rather  virulent 
and  pervasive ;  that  a  crudity  in  the  blood  will  appear  in 
the  argument ;  a  hump  in  the  shoulder  will  appear  in  the 
speech  and  handiwork.  If  his  mind  could  be  seen,  the 
hump  would  be  seen.  If  a  man  has  a  seesaw  in  his 
voice,  it  will  run  into  his  sentences,  into  his  poem,  into 
the  structure  of  his  fable,  into  his  speculation,  into  his 


FATE.  41 

charity.  And,  as  every  man  is  hunted  by  his  own  demon, 
vexed  by  his  own  disease,  this  checks  all  his  activity. 

So  each  man,  like  each  plant,  has  his  parasites.  A 
strong,  astringent,  bilious  nature  has  more  truculent  ene- 
mies than  the  slugs  and  moths  that  fret  my  leaves.  Such 
an  one  has  curculios,  borers,  knife-worms  :  a  swindler 
ate  him  first,  then  a  client,  then  a  quack,  then  smooth, 
plausible  gentlemen,  bitter  and  selfish  as  Moloch. 

This  correlation  really  existing  can  be  divined.  If  the 
threads  are  there,  thought  can  follow  and  show  them. 
Especially  when  a  soul  is  quick  and  docile ;  as  Chaucer 
sings :  — 

"  Or  if  the  soul  of  proper  kind 

Be  so  perfect  as  men  find, 

That  it  wot  what  is  to  come, 

And  that  he  warneth  all  and  some 

Of  every  of  their  aventures, 

By  previsions  or  figures ; 

But  that  our  flesh  hath  not  might 

It  to  understand  aright 

For  it  is  warned  too  darkly." 

Some  people  are  made  up  of  rhyme,  coincidence,  omen, 
periodicity,  and  presage :  they  meet  the  person  they 
seek ;  what  their  companion  prepares  to  say  to  them, 
they  first  say  to  him ;  and  a  hundred  signs  apprise  them 
of  what  is  about  to  befall. 

Wonderful  intricacy  in  the  web,  wonderful  constancy 
in  the  design,  this  vagabond  life  admits.  We  wonder 
how  the  fly  finds  its  mate,  and  yet  year  after  year  we  find 
two  men,  two  women,  without  legal  or  carnal  tie,  spend 
a  great  part  of  their  best  time  within  a  few  feet  of  each 


42  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

other.  And  the  moral  is,  that  what  we  seek  we  shall 
find ;  what  we  flee  from  flees  from  us ;  as  Goethe  said, 
"  what  we  wish  for  in  youth,  comes  in  heaps  on  us  in  old 
age/'  too  often  cursed  with  the  granting  of  our  prayer : 
and  hence  the  high  caution,  that,  since  we  are  sure  of 
having  what  we  wish,  we  beware  to  ask  only  for  high 
things. 

One  key,  one  solution  to  the  mysteries  of  human  con- 
dition, one  solution  to  the  old  knots  of  fate,  freedom  and 
foreknowledge,  exists,  the  propounding,  namely,  of  the 
double  consciousness.  A  man  must  ride  alternately  on  the 
horses  of  his  private  and  his  public  nature,  as  the  eques- 
trians in  the  circus  throw  themselves  nimbly  from  horse 
to  horse,  or  plant  one  foot  on  the  back  of  one,  and  the 
other  foot  on  the  back  of  the  other.  So  when  a  man  is 
the  victim  of  his  fate,  has  sciatica  in  his  loins,  and  cramp 
in  his  mind ;  a  club-foot  and  a  club  in  his  wit ;  a  sour 
face,  and  a  selfish  temper ;  a  strut  in  his  gait,  and  a  con- 
ceit in  his  affection  ;  or  is  ground  to  powder  by  the  vice 
of  his  race ;  he  is  to  rally  on  his  relation  to  the  Uni- 
verse, which  his  ruin  benefits.  Leaving  the  demon  who 
suffers,  he  is  to  take  sides  with  the  Deity  who  secures 
universal  benefit  by  his  pain. 

To  offset  the  drag  of  temperament  and  race,  which  pulls 
down,  learn  this  lesson,  namely,  that  by  the  cunning  co- 
. presence  of  two  elements,  which  is  throughout  nature, 
whatever  lames  or  paralyzes  you  draws  in  with  it  the  di- 
vinity, in  some  form,  to  repay.  A  good  intention  clothes 
uself  with  sudden  power.  When  a  god  wishes  to  ride, 
any  chip  or  pebble  will  bud  and  shoot  out  winged  feet, 
and  serve  him  for  a  horse. 


FATE.  43 

Let  us  build  altars  to  the  Blessed  Unity  which  holds 
nature  and  souls  in  perfect  solution,  and  compels  every 
atom  to  serve  an  universal  end.  I  do  not  wonder  at  a 
snow-flake,  a  shell,  a  summer  landscape,  or  the  glory  of 
the  stars ;  but  at  the  necessity  of  beauty  under  which  the 
universe  lies  ;  that  all  is  and  must  be  pictorial ;  that  the 
rainbow,  and  the  curve  of  the  horizon,  and  the  arcli  of 
the  blue  vault,  are  only  results  from  the  organism  of  the 
eye.  There  is  no  need  for  foolish  amateurs  to  fetch  me 
to  admire  a  garden  of  flowers,  or  a  sun-gilt  cloud,  or  a 
waterfall,  when  I  cannot  look  without  seeing  splendor 
and  grace.  How  idle  to  choose  a  random  sparkle  here  or 
there,  when  the  indwelling  necessity  plants  the  rose  of 
beauty  on  the  brow  of  chaos,  and  discloses  the  central  in- 
tention of  Nature  to  be  harmony  and  joy. 

Let  us  build  altars  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity.  If  we 
thought  men  were  free  in  the  sense,  that,  in  a  single  ex- 
ception one  fantastical  will  could  prevail  over  the  law  of 
things,  it  were  all  one  as  if  a  child's  hand  could  pull  down 
the  sun.  If,  in  the  least  particular,  one  could  derange  the 
order  of  nature,  —  Mio  would  accept  the  gift  of  life  ?  J 

Let  us  build  altav^  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity,  which 
secures  that  all  is  made  of  one  piece;  that  plaintiff  and 
defendant,  friend  and  enemy,  animal  and  planet,  food  and  \ 
eater,  are  of  one  kind.     In  astronomy  is  vast  space,  but 
no  foreign  system ;  in  geology,  vast  time,  but  the  same 
laws  as  to-day.     Why  should  we  be  afraid  of  Nature, 
which  is  no  other  than  "philosophy  and  theology  em- 
bodied "  ?    Why  should  we  fear  to  be  crushed  by  savage  / 
elements,  we  who  are  made  up  of  the  same  elements  ? 
Let  us  build  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity,  which  makes 


44  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

man  brave  in  believing  that  he  cannot  shun  a  danger  that 
is  appointed,  nor  incur  one  that  is  not ;  to  the  Neces- 
sity which  rudely  or  softly  educates  him  to  the  perception 
that  there  are  no  contingencies  ;  that  Law  rules  through- 
out existence,  a  Law  which  is  not  intelligent  but  intel- 
ligence, —  not  personal  nor  impersonal,  —  it  disdains 
words  and  passes  understanding ;  it  dissolves  persons ; 
it  vivifies  nature ;  yet  solicits  the  pure  in  heart  to  draw 
on  all  its  omnipotence. 


II. 

POWEE. 


His  tongue  was  framed  to  music, 
And  his  hand  was  armed  with  skill, 
His  face  was  the  mould  of  beauty, 
And  his  heart  the  throne  of  will. 


POWER. 


THERE  is  not  yet  any  inventory  of  a  man's  faculties, 
any  more  than  a  bible  of  his  opinions.  Who  shall  set  a 
limit  to  the  influence  of  a  human  being?  There  are 
men,  who,  by  their  sympathetic  attractions,  carry  na- 
tions with  them,  and  lead  the  activity  of  the  human  race. 
And  if  there  be  such  a  tie,  that,  wherever  the  mind  of 
man  goes,  nature  will  accompany  him,  perhaps  there  are 
men  whose  magnetisms  are  of  that  force  to  draw  material 
and  elemental  powers,  and,  where  they  appear,  immense 
instrumentalities  organize  around  them.  Life  is  a  search 
after  power ;  and  this  is  an  element  with  which  the  world 
is  so  saturated,  —  there  is  no  chink  or  crevice  in  which 
it  is  not  lodged,  —  that  no  honest  seeking  goes  unre- 
warded. A  man  should  prize  events  and  possessions,  as 
the  ore  in  which  this  fine  mineral  is  found ;  and  he  can 
well  afford  to  let  events  and  possessions,  and  the  breath 
of  the  body  go,  if  their  value  has  been  added  to  him  in 
the  shape  of  power.  If  he  have  secured  the  elixir,  he 
can  spare  the  wide  gardens  from  which  it  was  distilled. 
A  cultivated  man,  wise  to  know  and  bold  to  perform,  is 
the  end  to  which  nature  works,  and  the  education  of  the 
will  is  the  flowering  and  result  of  all  this  geology  and 
astronomy. 


48  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

All  successful  men  have  agreed  in  one  thing,  they  were 
causationists.  They  believed  that  tilings  went  not  by 
luck,  but  by  law ;  that  there  was  not  a  weak  or  a  cracked 
link  in  the  chain  that  joins  the  first  and  last  of  things. 
A  belief  in  causality,  or  strict  connection  between  every 
pulse-beat  and  the  principle  of  being,  —  and,  in  conse- 
quence, belief  in  compensation,  or,  that  nothing  is  got 
for  nothing,  —  characterizes  all  valuable  minds,  and  must 
control  every  effort  that  is  made  by  an  industrious  one. 
The  most  valiant  men  are  the  best  believers  in  the  tension 
of  the  laws.  "All  the  great  captains,"  said  Bonaparte, 
"  have  performed  vast  achievements  by  conforming  with 
the  rules  of  the  art,  —  by  adjusting  efforts  to  obstacles." 

The  key  to  the  age  may  be  this,  or  that,  or  the  other, 
as  the  young  orators  describe  ;  the  key  to  all  ages  is  — 
Imbecility ;  imbecility  in  the  vast  majority  of  men,  at 
all  times,  and,  even  in  heroes,  in  all  but  certain  eminent 
moments ;  victims  of  gravity,  custom,  and  fear.  This 
gives  force  to  the  strong,  —  that  the  multitude  have  no 
habit  of  self-reliance  or  original  action. 

We  must  reckon  success  a  constitutional  trait.  Cour- 
age, —  the  old  physicians  taught  (and  their  meaning 
holds,  if  their  physiology  is  a  little  mythical),  —  courage, 
or  the  degree  of  life,  is  as  the  degree  of  circulation  of 
the  blood  in  the  arteries.  "  During  passion,  anger,  fury, 
trials  of  strength,  wrestling,  fighting,  a  large  amount  of 
blood  is  collected  in  the  arteries,  the  maintenance  of 
bodily  strength  requiring  it,  and  but  little  is  sent  into 
the  veins.  This  condition  is  constant  with  intrepid  per- 
sons." Where  the  arteries  hold  their  blood,  is  courage 
and  adventure  possible.  Where  they  pour  it  unrestrained 


POWER.  49 

into  the  veins,  the  spirit  is  low  aiid  feeble.  For  per- 
formance of  great  mark,  it  needs  extraordinary  health. 
If  Eric  is  in  robust  health,  aiid  has  slept  well,  aud  is  at 
the  top  of  his  condition,  and  thirty  years  old,  at  his  de- 
parture from  Greenland,  he  will  steer  west,  and  his  ships 
will  reach  Newfoundland.  But  take  out  Eric,  and  put 
in  a  stronger  and  bolder  man,  —  Biorn,  or  Thorfin, — 
and  the  ships  will,  with  just  as  much  ease,  sail  six  hun- 
dred, one  thousand,  fifteen  hundred  miles  farther,  and 
reach  Labrador  and  New  England.  There  is  no  chance 
in  results.  With  adults,  as  with  children,  one  class  enter 
cordially  into  the  game,  and  whirl  with  the  whirling 
world;  the  others  have  cold  hands,  and  remain  by- 
standers ;  or  are  only  dragged  in  by  the  humor  and 
vivacity  of  those  who  can  carry  a  dead- weight.  The  first 
wealth  is  health.  Sickness  is  poor-spirited,  and  cannot 
serve  any  one :  it  must  husband  its  resources  to  live. 
But  health  or  fulness  answers  its  own  ends,  and  has  to 
spare,  runs  over,  and  inundates  the  neighborhoods  and 
creeks  of  other  men's  necessities. 

All  power  is  of  one  kind,  a  sharing  of  the  nature 
of  the  world.  The  mind  that  is  parallel  with  the  laws  of 
nature  will  be  in  the  current  of  events,  aud  strong  with 
their  strength.  One  man  is  made  of  the  same  stuff  of 
which  events  are  made ;  is  in  sympathy  with  the  course 
of  things ;  can  predict  it.  .Whatever  befalls,  befalls  him 
first ;  so  that  he  is  equal  to  whatever  shall  happen.  A 
man  who  knows  men,  can  talk  well  on  politics,  trade, 
law,  war,  religion.  For,  everywhere,  men  are  led  in  the 
same  manners. 

The  advantage  of  a  strong  pulse  is  not  to  be  supplied 

3  D 


50  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

by  any  labor,  art,  or  concert.  It  is  like  the  climate, 
which  easily  rears  a  crop,  which  no  glass,  or  irrigation, 
or  tillage,  or  manures,  can  elsewhere  rival.  It  is  like  the 
opportunity  of  a  city  like  New  York,  or  Constantinople, 
which  needs  no  diplomacy  to  force  capital  or  genius  or 
labor  to  it.  They  come  of  themselves,  as  the  waters  flow 
to  it.  So  a  broad,  healthy,  massive  understanding  seems 
to  lie  on  the  shore  of  unseen  rivers,  of  unseen  oceans, 
which  are  covered  with  barks,  that,  night  and  day,  are 
drifted  to  this  point.  That  is  poured  into  its  lap,  which 
other  men  lie  plotting  for.  It  is  in  everybody's  secret ; 
anticipates  everybody's  discovery ;  and  if  it  do  not  com- 
mand every  fact  of  the  genius  and  the  scholar,  it  is  be- 
cause it  is  large  and  sluggish,  and  does  not  think  them 
worth  the  exertion  which  you  do. 

This  affirmative  force  is  in  one,  and  is  not  in  another, 
as  one  horse  has  the  spring  in  him,  and  another  in  the 
whip.  "On  the  neck  of  the  young  man,"  said  Hafiz, 
"sparkles  no  gem  so  gracious  as  enterprise."  Import 
into  any  stationary  district,  as  into  an  old  Dutch  popula- 
tion in  New  York  or  Pennsylvania,  or  among  the  planters 
of  Virginia,  a  colony  of  hardy  Yankees,  with  seething 
brains,  heads  full  of  steam-hammer,  pulley,  crank,  and 

f  toothed  wheel,  —  and  everything  begins  to  shine  with 
values.  What  enhancement  to  all  the  water  and  land  in 
England,  is  the  arrival  of  James  Watt  or  Brunei !  In 
every  company,  there  is  not  only  the  active  and  passive 
sex,  but  in  both  men  and  women,  a  deeper  and  more  im- 

i  portant  sex  of  mind,  namely,  the  inventive  or  creative 
class  of  both  men  and  women,  and  the  uninventive  or  ac- 
cepting cla  Each  plus  man  represents  his  set,  and,  if 


POWER.  51 

he  hare  the  accidental  advantage  of  personal  ascendency, 
—  which  implies  neither  more  nor  less  of  talent,  but 
merely  the  temperamental  or  taming  eye  of  a  soldier  or  a 
schoolmaster  (which  one  has,  and  one  has  not,  as  one  has 
a  black  mustache  and  one  a  blond),  then  quite  easily,  and 
without  envy  or  resistance,  all  his  coadjutors  and  feeders 
will  admit  his  right  to  absorb  them.  The  merchant  works 
by  book-keeper  and  cashier ;  the  lawyer's  authorities  are 
hunted  up  by  clerks ;  the  geologist  reports  the  surveys 
of  his  subalterns ;  Commander  Wilkes  appropriates  the 
results  of  all  the  naturalists  attached  to  the  Expedi- 
tion ;  Thorwaldsen's  statue  is  finished  by  stone-cutters ; 
Dumas  has  journeymen ;  and  Shakespeare  was  theatre- 
manager,  and  used  the  labor  of  many  young  men,  as  well 
as  the  playbooks. 

There  is  always  room  for  a  man  of  force,  and  he  makes 
room  for  many.  Society  is  a  troop  of  thinkers,  and  the  best 
heads  among  them  take  the  best  places.  A  feeble  man 
can  see  the  farms  that  are  fenced  and  tilled,  the  houses 
that  are  built.  The  strong  man  sees  the  possible  houses 
and  farms.  His  eye  makes  estates,  as  fast  as  the  sun 
breeds  clouds. 

When  a  new  boy  comes  into  school,  when  a  man 
travels,  and  encounters  strangers  every  day,  or,  when 
into  an  old  club  a  new-comer  is  domesticated,  that  hap- 
pens which  befalls,  when  a  strange  ox  is  driven  into  a  pen 
or  pasture  where  cattle  are  kept ;  there  is  at  once  a  trial 
of  strength  between  the  best  pair  of  horns  and  the  new- 
comer, and  it  is  settled  thenceforth  which  is  the  leader. 
So  now,  there  is  a  measuring  of  strength,  very  courteous, 
but  decisive,  and  an  acquiescence  thenceforward  whet 


52  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

these  two  meet.  Each  reads  his  fate  in  the  other's  eyes. 
The  weaker  party  finds,  that  none  of  his  information  or 
wit  quite  fits  the  occasion.  He  thought  he  knew  this  or 
that:  lie  finds  that  he  omitted  to  learn  the  end  of  it. 
Nothing  that  he  knows  will  quite  hit  the  mark,  whilst  all 
the  rival's  arrows  are  good,  and  well  thrown.  But  if  he 
knew  all  the  facts  in  the  encyclopaedia,  it  would  not  help 
him  :  for  this  is  an  affair  of  presence  of  mind,  of  attitude, 
of  aplomb :  the  opponent  has  the  sun  and  wind,  and,  in 
every  cast,  the  choice  of  weapon  and  mark ;  and,  when 
he  himself  is  matched  with  some  other  antagonist,  his 
own  shafts  fly  well  and  hit.  'T  is  a  question  of  stomach 
and  constitution.  The  second  man  is  as  good  as  the  first, 
—  perhaps  better ;  but  has  not  stoutness  or  stomach,  as 
the  first  has,  and  so  his  wit  seems  ovef-fine  or  under-fine. 
Health  is  good,  —  power,  life,  that  resists  disease,  poi- 
son, and  all  enemies,  and  is  conservative,  as  well  as  crea- 
tive. Here  is  question,  every  spring,  whether  to  graft 
with  wax,  or  whether  with  clay  ;  whether  to  whitewash, 
or  to  potash,  or  to  prune  ;  but  the  one  point  is  the  thrifty 
tree.  A  good  tree,  that  agrees  with  the  soil,  will  grow 
in  spite  of  blight,  or  bug,  or  pruning,  or  neglect,  by  night 
and  by  day,  in  all  weathers  and  all  treatments.  Vivacity, 
leadership,  must  be  had,  and  we  are  not  allowed  to  be 
nice  in  choosing.  We  must  fetch  the  pump  with  dirty 
water,-if  clean  cannot  be  had.  If  we  will  make  bread, 
we  must  have  contagion,  yeast,  emptyings,  or  what  not, 
to  induce  fermentation  into  the  dough :  as  the  torpid 
artist  seeks  inspiration  at  any  cost,  by  virtue  or  by  vice, 
by  friend  or  by  fiend,  by  prayer  or  by  wine.  And  we 
have  a  certain  instinct,  that  where  is  great  amount  of  life, 


POWEK.  53 

though  gross  and  peccant,  it  has  its  own  checks  and  puri- 
fications, and  will  be  found  at  last  in  harmony  with  moral 
laws. 

We  watch  in  children,  with  pathetic  interest,  the  degree 
in  which  they  possess  recuperative  force.  When  they 
are  hurt  by  us,  or  by  each  other,  or  go  to  the  bottom  of 
the  class,  or  miss  the  annual  prizes,  or  are  beaten  in  the 
game,  —  if  they  lose  heart,  and  remember  the  mischance 
in  their  chamber  at  home,  they  have  a  serious  check. 
But  if  they  have  the  buoyancy  and  resistance  that  preoc- 
cupies them  with  new  interest  in  the  new  moment,  —  the 
wounds  cicatrize,  and  the  fibre  is  the  tougher  for  the  hurt. 

One  comes  to  value  this  plus  health,  when  he  sees  that 
all  difficulties  vanish  before  it.  A  timid  man  listening  to 
the  alarmists  in  Congress,  and  in  the  newspapers,  and 
observing  the  profligacy  of  party,  —  sectional  interests 
urged  with  a  fury  which  shuts  its  eyes  to  consequences, 
with  a  mind  made  up  to  desperate  extremities,  ballot  in 
one  hand,  and  rifle  in  the  other,  —  might  easily  believe 
that  he  and  his  country  have  seen  their  best  days,  and  he 
hardens  himself  the  best  he  can  against  the  coming  ruin. 
But,  after  this  has  been  foretold  with  equal  confidence 
fifty  times,  and  government  six  per  cents  have  not  de- 
clined a  quarter  of  a  mill,  he  discovers  that  the  enor- 
mous elements  of  strength  which  are  here  in  play  make 
our  politics  unimportant.  Personal  power,  freedom,  and 
the  resources  of  nature  strain  every  faculty  of  every  citi- 
zen. We  prosper  with  such  vigor,  that,  like  thrifty 
trees,  which  grow  in  spite  of  ice,  lice,  mice,  and  borers, 
so  we  do  not  suffer  from  the  profligate  swarms  that  fatten 
on  the  national  treasury.  The  huge  animals  nourish 


54  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

huge  parasites,  and  the  rancor  of  the  disease  attests  the 
strength  of  the  constitution.  The  same  energy  in  the 
Greek  Demos  drew  the  remark,  that  the  evils  of  popular 
government  appear  greater  than  they  are ;  there  is  com- 
pensation for  them  in  the  spirit  and  energy  it  awakens. 
The  rough-and-ready  style  which  belongs  to  a  people  of 
sailors,  foresters,  farmers,  and  mechanics,  has  its  advan- 
tages. Power  educates  the  potentate.  As  long  as  our 
people  quote  English  standards  they  dwarf  their  own 
proportions.  A  Western  lawyer  of  eminence  said  to  me 
lie  wished  it  were  a  penal  offence  to  bring  an  English 
law-book  into  a  court  in  this  country,  so  pernicious  had 
he  found  in  his  experience  our  deference  to  English  pre- 
cedent. The  very  word  "  commerce  "  has  only  an  Eng- 
lish meaning,  and  is  pinched  to  the  cramp  exigencies  of 
English  experience.  The  commerce  of  rivers,  the  com- 
merce of  railroads,  and  who  knows  but  the  commerce  of 
air-balloons,  must  add  an  American  extension  to  the 
pond-hole  of  admiralty.  As  long  as  our  people  quote 
English  standards,  they  will  miss  the  sovereignty  of 
power ;  but  let  these  rough  riders,  —  legislators  in  shirt- 
sleeves,—  Hoosier,  Sucker,  Wolverine,  Badger,  —  or 
whatever  hard  head  Arkansas,  Oregon,  or  Utah  sends, 
half  orator,  half  assassin,  to  represent  its  wrath  and 
cupidity  at  Washington,  —  let  these  drive  as  they  may ; 
and  the  disposition  of  territories  and  public  lands,  the 
necessity  of  balancing  and  keeping  at  bay  the  snarling 
majorities  of  German,  Irish,  and  of  native  millions,  will 
bestow  promptness,  address,  and  reason,  at  last,  on  our 
buifalo-hunter,  and  authority  and  majesty  of  manners. 
The  instinct  of  the  people  is  right.  Men  expect  from 


POWER.  55 

good  whigs,  put  into  office  by  the  respectability  of  the 
country,  much  less  skill  to  deal  with  Mexico,  Spain, 
Britain,  or  with  our  own  malcontent  members,  thar>  from 
some  strong  transgressor,  like  Jefferson,  or  Jackson,  who 
first  conquers  his  own  government,  and  then  uses  the 
same  genius  to  conquer  the  foreigner.  The  senators  who 
dissented  from  Mr.  Folk's  Mexican  war  were  not  those 
who  knew  better,  but  those  who,  from  political  position, 
could  afford  it ;  not  Webster,  but  Benton  and  Calhoun. 

This  power,  to  be  sure,  is  not  clothed  in  satin.  'T  is 
the  power  of  Lynch  law,  of  soldiers  and  pirates ;  and  it 
bullies  the  peaceable  and  loyal.  But  it  brings  its  own 
antidote ;  and  here  is  my  point,  —  that  all  kinds  of  power 
usually  emerge  at  the  same  time  ;  good  energy  and  bad  5- 
power  of  mind,  with  physical  health ;  the  ecstasies  of 
devotion,  with  the  exasperations  of  debauchery.  The 
same  elements  are  always  present,  only  sometimes  these 
conspicuous,  and  sometimes  those;  what  was  yesterday, 
foreground,  being  to-day  background,  —  what  was  sur- 
face, playing  now  a  not  less  effective  part  as  basis.  The 
longer  the  drought  lasts,  the  more  is  the  atmosphere  sur- 
charged with  water.  The  faster  the  ball  falls  to  the  sun, 
the  force  to  fly  off  is  by  so  much  augmented.  And,  in 
morals,  wild  liberty  breeds  iron  conscience ;  natures  with 
great  impulses  have  great  resources,  and  return  from 
far.  Iii  politics,  the  sous  of  democrats  will  be  whigs ; 
whilst  red  republicanism,  in  the  father,  is  a  spasm  of  na- 
ture to  engender  an  intolerable  tyrant  in  the  next  age. 
On  the  other  hand,  conservatism,  ever  more  timorous  and 
narrow,  disgusts  the  children,  and  drives  them  for  a 
mouthful  of  fresh  air  into  radicalism. 


56  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Those  who  Lave  most  of  this  coarse  energy,  —  the 
"  bruisers,"  who  have  run  the  gauntlet  of  caucus  and  tav- 
ern trough  the  county  or  the  state,  —  have  their  own 
vices,  but  they  have  the  good-nature  of  strength  and  cour- 
age. Tierce  and  unscrupulous,  they  are  usually  frank  and 
direct,  and  above  falsehood.  Our  politics  fall  into  bad 
hands,  and  churchmen  and  men  of  refinement,  it  seems 
agreed,  are  not  fit  persons  to  send  to  Congress.  Politics 
is  a  deleterious  profession,  like  some  poisonous  handi- 
crafts. Men  in  power  have  no  opinions,  but  may  be  had 
cheap  for  any  opinion,  for  any  purpose,  —  and  if  it  be  only 
a  question  between  the  most  civil  and  the  most  forcible,  I 
lean  to  the  last.  These  Hoosiers  and  Suckers  are  really 
better  than  the  snivelling  opposition.  Their  wrath  is  at 
least  of  a  bold  and  manly  cast.  They  see,  against  the 
unanimous  declarations  of  the  people,  how  much  crime 
the  people  will  bear ;  they  proceed  from  step  to  step,  and 
they  have  calculated  but  too  justly  upon  their  Excel- 
lencies, the  New  England  governors,  and  upon  their 
Honors,  the  New  England  legislators.  The  messages  of 
the  governors  and  the  resolutions  of  the  legislatures  are 
a  proverb  for  expressing  a  sham  virtuous  indignation, 
which,  in  the  course  of  events,  is  sure  to  be  belied. 

In  trade,  also,  this  energy  usually  carries  a  trace  of 
ferocity.  Philanthropic  and  religious  bodies  do  not  com- 
monly make  their  executive  officers  out  of  saints.  The 
communities  hitherto  founded  by  Socialists  —  the  Jes- 
uits, the  Port-Royalists,  the  American  communities  at 
New  Harmony,  at  Brook  Farm,  at  Zoar  —  are  only  pos- 
sible, by  installing  Judas  as  steward.  The  rest  of  the 
offices  may  be  filled  by  good  burgesses.  The  pious  and 


POWER.  57 

charitable  proprietor  lias  a  foreman  not  quite  so  pious 
and  charitable.  The  most  amiable  of  country  gentlemen 
has  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  teeth  of  the  bulldog  which 
guards  his  orchard.  Of  the  Shaker  society,  it  was  for- 
merly a  sort  of  proverb  in  the  country,  that  they  always 
sent  the  devil  to  market.  And  in  representations  of  the 
Deity,  painting,  poetry,  and  popular  religion  have  ever 
drawn  the  wrath  from  hell.  It  is  an  esoteric  doctrine  of 
society,  that  a  little  wickedness  is  good  to  make  muscle ; 
as  if  conscience  were  not  good  for  hands  and  legs,  as  if 
poor  decayed  formalists  of  law  and  order  cannot  run  like 
wild  goats,  wolves,  and  conies  ;  that,  as  there  is  a  use  in 
medicine  for  poisons,  so  the  world  cannot  move  without 
rogues ;  that  public  spirit  and  the  ready  hand  are  as  well 
found  among  the  malignants.  'T  is  not  very  rare,  the 
coincidence  of  sharp  private  and  political  practice,  with 
public  spirit,  and  good  neighborhood. 

I  knew  a  burly  Boniface  who  for  many  years  kept  a 
public  house  in  one  of  our  rural  capitals.  He  was  a 
knave  whom  the  town  could  ill  spare.  He  was  a  social, 
vascular  creature,  grasping  and  selfish.  There  was  no 
crime  which  he  did  not  or  could  not  commit.  But  he 
made  good  friends  of  the  selectmen,  served  them  with 
his  best  chop,  when  they  supped  at  his  house,  and  also 
with  his  honor  the  Judge,  he  was  very  cordial,  grasping 
his  hand.  He  introduced  all  the  fiends,  male  and  female, 
into  the  town,  and  united  in  his  person  the  functions  of 
bully,  incendiary,  swindler,  bar-keeper,  and  burglar.  He 
girdled  the  trees,  and  cut  off  the  horses'  tails  of  the  tem- 
perance people,  in  the  night.  He  led  the  "  rummies  " 
and  radicals  in  town-meeting  with  a  speech.  Meanthix. 
3* 


58  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

he  was  civil,  fat,  and  easy,  in  his  house,  and  precisely  the 
most  public-spirited  citizen.  He  was  active  in  getting 
the  roads  repaired  and  planted  with  shade-trees  ;  he  sub- 
scribed for  the  fountains,  the  gas,  and  the  telegraph ; 
he  introduced  the  new  horse-rake,  the  new  scraper,  the 
baby -jumper,  and  what  not,  that  Connecticut  sends  to 
•  the  admiring  citizens.  He  did  this  the  easier,  that  the 
pedler  stopped  at  his  house,  and  paid  his  keeping,  by 
setting  up  his  new  trap  on  the  landlord's  premises. 

Whilst  thus  the  energy  for  originating  and  executing 
work  deforms  itself  by  excess,  and  so  our  axe  chops  off 
our  own  fingers,  —  this  evil  is  not  without  remedy.  All 
the  elements  whose  aid  man  calls  in  will  sometimes  be- 
come his  masters,  especially  those  of  most  subtle  force. 
Shall  he,  then,  renounce  steam,  fire,  and  electricity,  or 
shall  he  learn  to  deal  with  them  ?  The  rule  for  this 
»  whole  class  of  agencies  is,  —  all  plus  is  good ;  only  put 
it  in  the  right  place. 

Men  of  this  surcharge  of  arterial  blood  cannot  live 
on  nuts,  herb-tea,  and  elegies ;  cannot  read  novels,  and 
play  whist ;  cannot  satisfy  all  their  wants  at  the  Thurs- 
day Lecture,  or  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  They  pine  for 
adventure,  and  must  go  to  Pike's  Peak  ;  had  rather  die 
by  the  hatchet  of  a  Pawnee,  than  sit  all  day  and  every 
day  at  a  counting-room  desk.  They  are  made  for  war, 
for  the  sea,  for  mining,  hunting,  and  clearing ;  for  hair- 
breadth adventures,  huge  risks,  and  the  joy  of  eventful 
living.  Some  men  cannot  endure  an  hour  of  calm  at 
sea.  I  remember  a  poor  Malay  cook,  on  board  a  Liver- 
pool packet,  who,  when  the  wind  blew  a  gale,  could  not 
contain  his  joy.  "  Blow  !  "  he  cried,  "  me  do  tell  you, 


POWER.  59 

blow ! "  Their  friends  and  governors  must  see  that 
some  vent  for  their  explosive  complexion  is  provided. 
The  roisters  who  are  destined  for  infamy  at  home,  if  sent 
to  Mexico,  will  "  cover  you  with  glory,"  and  come  back 
heroes  and  generals.  There  are  Oregons,  Californias,  and 
Exploring  Expeditions  enough  appertaining  to  America,  to 
find  them  in  files  to  gnaw,  and  in  crocodiles  to  eat.  The 
young  English  are  fine  animals,  full  of  blood,  and  when 
they  have  no  wars  to  breathe  their  riotous  valors  in,  they 
seek  for  travels  as  dangerous  as  war,  diving  into  Mael- 
stroms ;  swimming  Hellesponts ;  wading  up  the  snowy 
Himmaleh ;  hunting  lion,  rhinoceros,  elephant,  in  South 
Africa ;  gypsyiug  with  Borrow  in  Spain  and  Algiers ; 
riding  alligators  in  South  America  with  Waterton ;  util- 
izing Bedouin,  Sheik,  and  Pacha,  with  Layard  ;  yachting 
among  the  icebergs  of  Lancaster  Sound;  peeping  into 
craters  on  the.  equator ;  or  running  on  the  creases  of 
Malays  in  Borneo. 

The  excess  of  virility  has  the  same  importance  in  gen- 
eral history,  as  in  private  and  industrial  life.  Strong 
race  or  strong  individual  rests  at  last  on  natural  forces, 
which  are  best  in  the  savage,  who,  like  the  beasts  around 
him,  is  still  in  reception  of  the  milk  from  the  teats  of 
Nature.  Cut  off  the  connection  between  any  of  our 
works  and  this  aboriginal  source,  and  the  work  is  shal- 
low. The  people  lean  on  this,  and  the  mob  is  not  quite 
so  bad  an  argument  as  we  sometimes  say,  for  it  has  this 
good  side.  "March  without  the  people,"  said  a  French 
deputy  from  the  tribune,  "  and  you  march  into  night : 
their  instincts  are  a  finger-pointing  of  Providence,  always 
turned  toward  real  benefit.  But  when  you  espouse  an 


60  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Orleans  party,  or  a  Bourbon,  or  a  Montalembert  party, 
or  any  other  but  an  organic  party,  though  you  mean 
well,  you  have  a  personality  instead  of  a  principle,  which 
will  inevitably  drag  you  into  a  corner." 

The  best  anecdotes  of  this  force  are  to  be  had  from 
savage  life,  in  explorers,  soldiers,  and  buccaneers.  But 
who  cares  for  fallings-out  of  assassins,  and  fights  of  bears, 
or  grindings  of  icebergs  ?  Physical  force  has  no  value, 
where  there  is  nothing  else.  Snow  in  snow-banks,  fire  in 
volcanoes  and  solfataras,  is  cheap.  The  luxury  of  ice  is  in 
tropical  countries,  and  midsummer  days.  The  luxury  of 
fire  is,  to  have  a  little  on  our  hearth  ;  and  of  electricity, 
not  volleys  of  the  charged  cloud,  but  the  manageable 
stream  on  the  battery-wires.  So  of  spirit,  or  energy ;  the 
i  rests  or  remains  of  it  in  the  civil  and  moral  man  are 
worth  all  the  cannibals  in  the  Pacific. 

In  history,  the  great  moment  is,  when  the  savage  is 
just  ceasing  to  be  a  savage,  with  all  his  hairy  Pelasgic 
strength  directed  on  his  opening  sense  of  beauty :  —  and 
you  have  Pericles  and  Phidias, —  not  yet  passed  over  into 
the  Corinthian  civility.  Everything  good  in  nature  and  the 
world  is  in  that  moment  of  transition,  when  (he  swarthy 
juices  still  flow  plentifully  from  nature,  but  their  astrin- 
gency  or  acridity  is  got  out  by  ethics  and  humanity. 

The  triumphs  of  peace  have  been  in  some  proximity  to 
war.  Whilst  the  hand  was  still  familiar  with  the  sword- 
hilt,  whilst  the  habits  of  the  camp  were  still  visible  in  the 
port  and  complexion  of  the  gentleman,  his  intellectual 
power  culminated  ;  the  compression  and  tension  of  these 
stern  conditions  is  a  training  for  the  finest  and  softest 
arts,  and  can  rarely  be  compensated  in  tranquil  times, 


POWER.  61 

except  by  some  analogous  vigor  drawn  from  occupations 
as  hardy  as  war. 

We  say  that  success  is  constitutional;  depends  on  a 
plus  condition  of  mind  and  body,  on  power  of  work,  on 
courage ;  that  it  is  of  main  efficacy  in  carrying  on  the 
world,  and,  though  rarely  found  in  the  right  state  for  au 
article  of  commerce,  but  ofteuer  in  the  supersaturate  or 
excess,  which  makes  it  dangerous  and  destructive,  yet  it 
cannot  be  spared,  and  must  be  had  in  that  form,  and  ab- 
sorbents provided  to  take  off  its  edge. 

The  affirmative  class  monopolize  the  homage  of  man- 
kind. They  originate  and  execute  all  the  great  feats. 
What  a  force  was  coiled  up  in  the  skull  of  Napoleon  ! 
Of  the  sixty  thousand  men  making  his  army  at  Eylau,  it 
seems  some  thirty  thousand  were  thieves  and  burglars. 
The  men  whom,  in  peaceful  communities,  we  hold  if  we 
can,  with  iron  at  their  legs,  in  prisons,  under  the  mus- 
kets of  sentinels,  this  man  dealt  with,  hand  to  hand, 
dragged  them  to  their  duty,  and  won  his  victories  by 
their  bayonets. 

This  aboriginal  might  gives  a  surprising  pleasure  when 
it  appears  under  conditions  of  supreme  refinement,  as  in 
the  proficients  in  high  art.  When  Michel  Angelo  was 
forced  to  paint  the  Sistine  Chapel  in  fresco,  of  which  art 
he  knew  nothing,  he  went  down  into  the  Pope's  gardens 
behind  the  Vatican,  and  with  a  shovel  dug  out  ochres, 
red  and  yellow,  mixed  them  with  glue  and  water  with  his 
own  hands,  and  having,  after  many  trials,  at  last  suited 
himself,  climbed  his  ladders,  and  painted  away,  week 
after  week,  month  after  month,  the  sibyls  and  prophets. 
He  surpassed  his  successors  in  rough  vigor,  as  much 


62  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

as  in  purity  of  intellect  and  refinement.  He  was  not 
crushed  by  his  oue  picture  left  unfinished  at  last.  Michel 
was  wont  to  draw  his  figures  first  in  skeleton,  then  to 
clothe  them  with  flesh,  and  lastly  to  drape  them.  "  Ah  !  " 
said  a  brave  painter  to  me,  thinking  on  these  things,  "  if 
a  man  has  failed,  you  will  find  he  has  dreamed  instead  of 
working.  There  is  no  way  to  success  in  our  art,  but  to 
take  off  your  coat,  grind  paint,  and  work  like  a  digger  on 
the  railroad,  all  day  and  every  day." 

Success  goes  thus  invariably  with  a  certain  plus  or  pos- 
itive power :  an  ounce  of  power  must  balance  an  ounce 
of  weight.  And,  though  a  man  cannot  return  into  his 
mother's  womb,  and  be  born  with  new  amounts  of  vi- 
vacity, yet  there  are  two  economies,  which  are  the  best 
succedanea  which  the  case  admits.  Tlie  first  is,  the 
stopping  off  decisively  our  miscellaneous  activity,  and 
concentrating  our  force  on  one  or  a  few  points ;  as  the 
gardener,  by  severe  pruning,  forces  the  sap  of  the  tree 
into  one  or  two  vigorous  limbs,  instead  of  suffering  it  to 
spindle  into  a  sheaf  of  twigs. 

"  Enlarge  not  thy  destiny,"  said  the  oracle :  "  en- 
deavor not,  to  do  more  than  is  given  thee  in  charge." 
The  one  prudence  in  life  is  concentration ;  the  one  evil 
is  dissipation :  and  it  makes  no  difference  whether  our 
dissipations  are  coarse  or  fine;  property  and  its  cares, 
friends,  and  a  social  habit,  or  politics,  or  music,  or  feast- 
ing. Everything  is  good  which  takes  away  one  play- 
thing and  delusion  more,  and  drives  us  home  to  add  one 
stroke  of  faithful  work.  Friends,  books,  pictures,  lower 
duties,  talents,  flatteries,  hopes, — all  are  distractions 
which  cause  oscillations  in  our  giddy  balloon,  and  make 


POWER.  G;3 

a  good  poise  and  a  straight  course  impossible.  You 
must  elect  your  work ;  you  shall  take  what  your  brain 
can,  and  drop  all  the  rest.  Only  so,  can  that  amount  of 
vital  force  accumulate,  which  can  make  the  step  from 
knowing  to  doing.  No  matter  how  much  faculty  of  idle 
seeing  a  man  has,  the  step  from  knowing  to  doing  is 
rarely  taken.  JT  is  a  step  out  of  a  chalk  circle  of  im- 
becility into  fruitfulness.  Many  an  artist,  lacking  this, 
lacks  all :  he  sees  the  masculine  Angelo  or  Cellini  with 
despair.  He,  too,  is  up  to  Nature  and  the  First  Cause 
in  his  thought.  But  the  spasm  to  collect  and  swing 
his  whole  being  into  one  act,  he  has  not.  The  poet 
Campbell  said,  that  "a  man  accustomed  to  work  was 
equal  to  any  achievement  he  resolved  on,  and  that,  for 
himself,  necessity,  not  inspiration,  was  the  prompter  of 
his  muse." 

Concentration  is  the  secret  of  strength  in  politics,  in 
war,  in  trade,  in  short,  in  all  management  of  human 
affairs.  One  of  the  high  anecdotes  of  the  world  is  the 
reply  of  Newton  to  the  inquiry,  "  how  he  had  been  able 
to  achieve  his  discoveries."  "  By  always  intending  my 
mind."  Or  if  you  will  have  a  text  from  politics,  take 
this  from  Plutarch  :  "  There  was,  in  the  whole  city,  but 
one  street  in  which  Pericles  was  ever  seen,  the  street 
which  led  to  the  market-place  and  the  council-house. 
He  declined  all  invitations  to  banquets,  and  all  gay  as- 
semblies and  company.  During  the  whole  period  of  his 
administration,  he  never  dined  at  the  table  of  a  friend." 
Or  if  we  seek  an  example  from  trade,  —  "I  hope,"  said  a 
good  man  to  Rothschild,  "  your  children  are  not  too  fond 
of  money  and  business :  I  am  sure  you  would  not  wish 


64  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE, 

that."  "  I  am  sure  I  should  wish  that :  I  wish  them  to 
give  mind,  soul,  heart,  and  body  to  business,  —  that  is  the 
way  to  be  happy.  It  requires  a  great  deal  of  boldness 
and  a  great  deal  of  caution  to  make  a  great  fortune,  and 
when  you  have  got  it,  it  requires  ten  times  as  much  wit  to 
keep  it.  If  I  were  to  listen  to  all  the  projects  proposed 
to  me,  I  should  ruin  myself  very  soon.  Stick  to  one  busi- 
ness, young  man.  Stick  to  your  brewery  (he  said  this 
to  young  Buxton),  and  you  will  be  the  great  brewer  of 
London.  Be  brewer,  and  banker,  and  merchant,  and 
manufacturer,  and  you  will  soon  be  in  the  Gazette." 

Many  men  are  knowing,  many  are  apprehensive  and 
tenacious,  but  they  do  not  rush  to  a  decision.  But  in 
our  flowing  affairs  a  decision  must  be  made,  —  the  best, 
if  you  can ;  but  any  is  better  than  none.  There  are 
twenty  ways  of  going  to  a  point,  and  one  is  the  shortest ; 
but  set  out  at  once  on  one.  A  man  who  has  that  pres- 
ence of  mind  which  can  bring  to  him  on  the  instant  all 
he  knows,  is  worth  for  action  a  dozen  men  who  know  as 
much,  but  can  only  bring  it  to  light  slowly.  The  good 
Speaker  in  the  House  is  not  the  man  who  knows  the  tl^ 
ory  of  parliamentary  tactics,  but  the  man  who  decides  off- 
hand. The  good  judge  is  not  he  who  does  hair-splitting 
justice  to  every  allegation,  but  who,  aiming  at  substan- 
tial justice,  rules  something  intelligible  for  the  guidance 
of  suitors.  The  good  lawyer  is  not  the  man  who  has 
an  eye  to  every  side  and  angle  of  contingency,  and  qual- 
ifies all  his  qualifications,  but  who  throws  himself  on  your 
part  so  heartily,  that  he  can  get  you  out  of  a  scrape. 
Dr.  Johnson  said,  in  one  of  his  flowing  sentences :  "  Mis- 
erable beyond  all  names  of  wretchedness  is  that  unhappy 


POWER.  65 

pair,  who  are  doomed  to  reduce  beforehand  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  abstract  reason  all  the  details  of  each  domestic 
day.  There  are  cases  where  little  can  be  said,  and  much 
must  be  done." 

The  second  substitute  for  temperament  is  drill,  the 
power  of  use  and  routine.  The  hack  is  a  better  roadster 
than  the  Arab  barb.  In  chemistry,  the  galvanic  stream, 
slow,  but  continuous,  is  equal  in  power  to  the  electric 
spark,  and  is,  in  our  arts,  a  better  agent.  So  in  human 
action,  against  the  spasm  of  energy,  we  offset  the  continu- 
ity of  drill.  We  spread  the  same  amount  of  force  over 
much  time,  instead  of  condensing  it  into  a  moment. 
'T  is  the  same  ounce  of  gold  here  in  a  ball,  and  there  in  a 
leaf.  At  West  Point,  Colonel  Buford,  the  chief  engineer, 
pounded  with  a  hammer  on  the  trunnions  of  a  cannon, 
until  he  broke  them  off.  He  fired  a  piece  of  ordnance 
some  hundred  times  in  swift  succession,  until  it  burst. 
Now  which  stroke  broke  the  trunnion  ?  Every  stroke. 
Which  blast  burst  the  piece  ?  Every  blast.  "  Diligence 
passe  sens"  Henry  VIII.  was  wont  to  say,  or,  great  is 
drill.  John  Kemble  said,  that  the  worst  provincial  com- 
pany of  actors  would  go  through  a  play  better  than  the 
best  amateur  company.  Basil  Hall  likes  to  show  that  the 
worst  regular  troops  will  beat  the  best  volunteers.  Prac- 
tice is  nine  tenths.  A  course  of  mobs  is  good  practice 
for  orators.  All  the  great  speakers  were  bad  speakers  at 
first.  Stumping  it  through  England  for  seven  years  made 
Cobden  a  consummate  debater.  Stumping  it  through 
New  England  for  twice  seven  trained  Wendell  Phillips. 
The  way  to  learn  German  is,  to  read  the  same  dozen 
pages  over  and  over  a  hundred  times,  till  you  know  every 


66  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

word  and  particle  in  them  and  can  pronounce  and  repeat 
them  by  heart.  No  genius  can  recite  a  ballad  at  first 
reading,  so  well  as  mediocrity  can  at  the  fifteenth  or 
twentieth  reading.  The  rule  for  hospitality  and  Irish 
"  help,"  is,  to  have  the  same  dinner  every  day  throughout 
the  year.  At  last,  Mrs.  O'Shaughnessy  learns  to  cook  it 
to  a  nicety,  the  host  learns  to  carve  it,  and  the  guests  are 
well  served.  A  humorous  friend  of  mine  thinks,  that  the 
reason  why  Nature  is  so  perfect  in  her  art,  and  gets  up 
such  inconceivably  fine  sunsets,  is,  that  she  has  learned 
how,  at  last,  by  dint  of  doing  the  same  thing  so  very  often. 
Cannot  one  converse  better  on  a  topic  on  which  he  has 
experience,  than  on  one  which  is  new  ?  Men  whose  opin- 
ion is  valued  on  'Change,  are  only  such  as  have  a  special 
experience,  and  off  that  ground  their  opinion  is  not  valu- 
able. "More  are  made  good  by  exercitation,  than  by 
nature,"  said  Democritus.  The  friction  in  nature  is  so 
enormous  that  we  cannot  spare  any  power.  It  is  not 
question  to  express  our  thought,  to  elect  our  way,  but  to 
overcome  resistances  of  the  medium  and  material  in  every- 
thing we  do.  Hence  the  use  of  drill,  and  the  worthless- 
ness  of  amateurs  to  cope  with  practitioners.  Six  hours 
every  day  at  the  piano,  only  to  give  facility  of  touch ;  six 
hours  a  day  at  painting,  only  to  give  command  of  the  odi- 
ous materials,  oil,  ochres,  and  brushes.  The  masters  say 
that  they  know  a  master  in  music,  only  by  seeing  the  pose 
of  the  hands  on  the  keys ;  —  so  difficult  and  vital  an  act 
is  the  command  of  the  instrument.  To  have  learned  the 
use  of  the  tools,  by  thousands  of  manipulations  ;  to  have 
learned  the  arts  of  reckoning,  by  endless  adding  and  di- 
viding, is  the  power  of  the  mechanic  and  the  clerk. 


POWER.  67 

I  remarked  in  England,  in  confirmation  of  a  frequent 
experience  at  home,  that,  in  literary  circles,  the  men  of 
trust  and  consideration,  book-makers,  editors,  university 
deans  and  professors,  bishops,  too,  were  by  no  means  men 
of  the  largest  literary  talent,  but  usually  of  a  low  and  ordi- 
nary intellectuality,  with  a  sort  of  mercantile  activity  and 
working  talent.  Indifferent  hacks  and  mediocrities  tower, 
by  pushing  their  forces  to  a  lucrative  point,  or  by  work- 
ing power,  over  multitudes  of  superior  men,  in  Old  as  in 
New  England. 

I  have  not  forgotten  that  there  are  sublime  considera- 
tions which  limit  the  value  of  talent  and  superficial  suc- 
cess. We  can  easily  overpraise  the  vulgar  hero.  There 
are  sources  on  which  we  have  not  drawn.  I  know  what 
I  abstain  from.  I  adjourn  what  I  have  to  say  on  this 
topic  to  the  chapters  on  Culture  and  Worship.  But 
this  force  or  spirit,  being  the  means  relied  on  by  Nature 
for  bringing  the  work  of  the  day  about,  —  as  far  as  we 
attach  importance  to  household  life,  and  the  prizes  of  the 
world,  we  must  respect  that.  And  I  hold,  that  an  econ- 
omy may  be  applied  to  it ;  it  is  as  much  a  subject  of  exact 
law  and  arithmetic  as  fluids  and  gases  are ;  it  may  be 
husbanded,  or  wasted  ;  every  man  is  efficient  only  as  lie 
is  a  container  or  vessel  of  this  force,  and  never  was  any 
signal  act  or  achievement  in  history,  but  by  this  expendi- 
ture. This  is  not  gold,  but  the  gold-maker;  not  the 
fame,  but  the  exploit. 

If  these  forces  and  this  husbandry  are  within  reach  of 
our  will,  and  the  laws  of  them  can  be  read,  we  infer  that 
all  success,  and  all  conceivable  benefit  for  man,  is  also, 
first  or  last,  within  his  reach,  and  has  its  own  sublime 


68  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

economies  by  which  it  may  be  attained.  The  world  is 
mathematical,  and  has  no  casualty,  in  all  its  vast  and  flow- 
ing curve.  Success  has  no  more  eccentricity,  than  the 
gingham  and  muslin  we  weave  in  our  mills.  I  know  no 
more  affecting  lesson  to  our  busy,  plotting  New  England 
brains,  than  to  go  into  one  of  the  factories  with  which  we 
have  lined  all  the  water-courses  in  the  States.  A  man 
hardly  knows  how  much  he  is  a  machine,  until  he  begins 
to  make  telegraph,  loom,  press,  and  locomotive,  in  his 
own  image.  But  in  these,  he  is  forced  to  leave  out  his 
follies  and  hindrances,  so  that  when  we  go  to  the  mill,  the 
machine  is  more  moral  than  we.  Let  a  man  dare  go  to  a 
loom,  and  see  if  he  be  equal  to  it.  Let  machine  confront 
machine,  and  see  how  they  come  out.  The  world-mill  is 
more  complex  than  the  calico-mill,  and  the  architect 
stooped  less.  In  the  gingham-mill,  a  broken  thread  or  a 
shred  spoils  the  web  through  a  piece  of  a  hundred  yaris, 
and  is  traced  back  to  the  girl  that  wove  it,  and  lessens 
her  wages.  The  stockholder,  on  being  shown  this,  rubs 
his  hands  with  delight.  Are  you  so  cunning,  Mr.  Profit- 
loss,  and  do  you  expect  to  swindle  your  master  and  em- 
ployer, in  the  web  you  weave  ?  A  day  is  a  more  mag- 
nificent cloth  than  any  muslin,  the  mechanism  that  makes 
it  is  infinitely  cunninger,  and  you  shall  not  conceal  the 
sleazy,  fraudulent,  rotten  hours  you  have  slipped  into  the 
piece,  nor  fear  that  any  honest  thread,  or  straighter  steel, 
or  more  inflexible  shaft,  will  not  testify  iu  the  web. 


ni 

WEALTH. 


WHO  shall  tell  what  did  befall, 
Far  away  in  time,  when  once, 
Over  the  lifeless  ball, 
Hung  idle  stars  and  suns? 
What  god  the  element  obeyed? 
Wings  of  what  wind  the  lichen  bore, 
Wafting  the  puny  seeds  of  power, 
Which,  lodged  in  rock,  the  rock  abrade? 
And  well  the  primal  pioneer 
Knew  the  strong  task  to  it  assigned, 
Patient  through  Heaven's  enormous  year 
To  build  in  matter  home  for  mind. 
From  air  the  creeping  centuries  drew 
The  matted  thicket  low  and  wide, 
This  must  the  leaves  of  ages  strew 
The  granite  slab  to  clothe  and  hide, 
Ere  wheat  can  wave  its  golden  pride. 
What  smiths,  and  in  what  furnace,  rolled 
(Tn  dizzy  seons  dim  and  mute 
The  reeling  brain  can  ill  compute) 
Copper  and  iron,  lead,  and  gold? 
What  oldest  star  the  fame  can  save 


70  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Of  races  perishing  to  pave 

The  planet  with  a  floor  of  lime  ? 

Dust  is  their  pyramid  and  mole : 

Who  saw  what  ferns  and  palms  were  pressed 

Under  the  tumbling  mountain's  breast, 

In  the  safe  herbal  of  the  coal? 

But  when  the  quarried  means  were  piled, 

All  is  waste  and  worthless,  till 

Arrives  the  wise  selecting  will, 

And,  out  of  slime  and  chaos,  Wit 

Draws  the  threads  of  fair  and  fit. 

Then  temples  rose,  and  towns,  and  marts, 

The  shop  of  toil,  the  hall  of  arts ; 

Then  flew  the  sail  across  the  seas 

To  feed  the  North  from  tropic  trees ; 

The  storm-wind  wove,  the  torrent  span, 

Where  they  were  bid  the  rivers  ran; 

New  slaves  fulfilled  the  poet's  dream, 

Galvanic  wire,  strong-shouldered  steam. 

Then  docks  were  built,  and  crops  were  stored, 

And  ingots  added  to  the  hoard. 

But,  though  light-headed  man  forget, 

'   Remembering  Matter  pays  her  debt: 
Still,  through  her  motes  and  masses,  draw 
Electric  thrills  and  ties  of  Law, 
Which  bind  the  strengths  of  Nature  wild 

i  To  the  conscience  of  a  child. 


WEALTH. 


As  soon  as  a  stranger  is  introduced  into  any  com- 
pany, one  of  the  first  questions  which  all  wish  to  have 
answered,  is,  How  does  that  man  get  his  living  ?  And 
with  reason.  He  is  no  whole  man  until  he  knows  how 
to  earn  a  blameless  livelihood.  Society  is  barbarous, 
until  every  industrious  man  can  get  his  living  without 
dishonest  customs. 

Every  man  is  a  consumer,  and  ought  to  be  a  producer. 
He  fails  to  make  his  place  good  in  the  world,  unless  he 
not  only  pays  his  debt,  but  also  adds  something  to  the 
common  wealth.  Nor  can  he  do  justice  to  his  genius, 
without  making  some  larger  demand  on  the  world  than  a 
bare  subsistence.  He  is  by  consiitutiou  expensive,  and 
needs  to  be  rich. 

Wealth  has  its  source  in  applications  of  the  mind  to 
nature,  from  the  rudest  strokes  of  spade  and  axe,  up  to 
the  last  secrets  of  art.  Intimate  ties  subsist  between 
•  thought  and  all  production ;  because  a  better  order  is 
equivalent  to  vast  amounts  of  brute  labor.  The  forces 
and  the  resistances  are  Nature's,  but  the  mind  acts  in 
bringing  things  from  where  they  abound  to  where  they 
are  wanted;  in  wise  combining;  in  directing  the  practice 
of  the  useful  arts,  and  in  the  creation  of  finer  values,  by 


72  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

fine  art,  by  eloquence,  by  song  or  the  reproductions  of 
memory.  Wealth  is  in  applications  of  mind  to  nature ; 
and  the  art  of  getting  rich  consists  not  in  industry,  much 
less  in  saving,  but  in  a  better  order,  in  timeliness,  in 
being  at  the  right  spot.  One  man  has  stronger  arms, 
or  longer  legs ;  another  sees  by  the  course  of  streams, 
and  growth  of  markets,  where  land  will  be  wanted, 
makes  a  clearing  to  the  river,  goes  to  sleep,  and  wakes 
up  rich.  Steam  is  no  stronger  now,  than  it  was  a  hun- 
dred years  ago  ;  but  is  put  to  better  use.  A  clever  fel- 
low was  acquainted  with  the  expansive  force  of  steam ; 
he  also  saw  the  wealth  of  wheat  and  grass  rotting  in 
Michigan.  Then  he  cunningly  screws  on  the  steam-pipe 
to  the  wheat-crop.  Puff  now,  0  Steam  !  The  steam 
puffs  and  expands  as  before,  but  this  time  it  is  dragging 
all  Michigan  at  its  back  to  hungry  New  York  and  hungry 
England.  Coal  lay  in  ledges  under  the  ground  since  the 
Flood,  until  a  laborer  with  pick  and  windlass  brings  it 
to  the  surface.  We  may  well  call  it  black  diamonds. 
Every  basket  is  power  and  civilization.  For  coal  is  a 
portable  climate.  It  carries  the  heat  of  the  tropics  to 
Labrador  and  the  polar  circle;  and  it  is  the  means  of 
transporting  itself  whithersoever  it  is  wanted.  Watt 
and  Stephenson  whispered  in  the  ear  of  mankind  their 
secret,  that  a  half -ounce  of  coal  will  draw  two  tons  a  mile, 
and  coal  carries  coal,  by  rail  and  by  boat,  to  make  Can- 
ada as  warm  as  Calcutta,  and  with  its  comfort  brings  its 
industrial  power. 

When  the  farmer's  peaches  are  taken  from  under  the 
tree,  and  carried  into  town,  they  have  a  new  look,  and  a 
hundred-fold  value  over  the  fruit  which  grew  on  the  same 


WEALTH.  73 

bough,  and  lies  fulsomely  on  the  ground.  The  craft 
of  the  merchant  is  this  bringing  a  thing  from  where  it 
abounds,  to  where  it  is  costly. 

Wealth  begins  in  a  tight  roof  that  keeps  the  rain  and 
wind  out ;  in  a  good  pump  that  yields  you  plenty  of 
sweet  water ;  in  two  suits  of  clothes,  so  to  change  your 
dress  when  you  are  wet ;  in  dry  sticks  to  burn ;  in  a 
good  double-wick  lamp ;  and  three  meals ;  in  a  horse,  or 
a  locomotive,  to  cross  the  land ;  in  a  boat  to  cross  the 
sea ;  in  tools  to  work  with ;  in  books  to  read  ;  and  so, 
in  giving,  on  all  sides,  by  tolls  and  auxiliaries,  the  great- 
est possible  extension  to  our  powers,  as  if  it  added  feet, 
and  hands,  and  eyes,  and  blood,  length  to  the  day,  and 
knowledge,  and  good-will. 

"Wealth  begins  with  these  articles  of  necessity.  And 
here  we  must  recite  the  iron  law  which  Nature  thunders 
in  these  northern  climates.  First,  she  requires  that  each 
man  should  feed  himself.  If,  happily,  his  fathers  have 
left  him  no  inheritance,  he  must  go  to  work,  and  by 
making  his  wants  less,  or  his  gains  more,  he  must  draw 
himself  out  of  that  state  of  pain  and  insult  in  which  she 
forces  the  beggar  to  lie.  She  gives  him  no  rest  until 
this  is  done ;  she  starves,  taunts,  and  torments  him, 
takes  away  warmth,  laughter,  sleep,  friends,  and  day- 
light, until  he  has  fought  his  way  to  his  own  loaf.  Then, 
less  peremptorily,  but  still  with  sting  enough,  she  urges 
him  to  the  acquisition  of  such  things  as  belong  to  him. 
Every  warehouse  and  shop-window,  every  fruit-tree, 
every  thought  of  every  hour,  opens  a  new  want  to  him, 
which  it  concerns  his  power  and  dignity  to  gratify.  It  is 
of  no  use  to  argue  the  wants  down :  the  philosophers 
4 


74  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

have  laid  the  greatness  of  man  in  making  his  wants  few ; 
'  but  will  a  man  content  himself  with  a  hut  and  a  handful 
of  dried  pease  ?  He  is  born  to  be  rich.  He  is  thor- 
oughly related ;  and  is  tempted  out  by  his  appetites 
and  fancies  to  the  conquest  of  this  and  that  piece  of 
nature,  until  he  finds  his  well-being  in  the  use  of  his 
planet,  and  of  more  planets  than  his  own.  Wealth  re- 
quires—  besides  the  crust  of  bread  and  the  roof — the 
freedom  of  the  city,  the  freedom  of  the  earth,  travelling, 
machinery,  the  benefits  of  science,  music,  and  fine  arts, 
the  best  culture,  and  the  best  company.  He  is  the  rich 
man  who  can  avail  himself  of  all  men's  faculties.  He  is 
the  richest  man  who  knows  how  to  draw  a  benefit  from 
the  labors  of  the  greatest  number  of  men,  of  men  in  dis- 
tant countries,  and  in  past  times.  The  same  correspond- 
ence that  is  between  thirst  in  the  stomach  and  water  in 
the  spring,  exists  between  the  whole  of  man  and  the 
whole  of  nature.  The  elements  offer  their  service  to 
him.  The  sea,  washing  the  equator  and  the  poles,  offers 
its  perilous  aid,  and  the  power  and  empire  that  follow  it, 
—  day  by  day  to  his  craft  and  audacity.  "  Beware  of 
me,"  it  says,  "  but  if  you  can  hold  me,  I  am  the  key  to 
all  the  lauds."  Fire  offers,  on  its  side,  an  equal  power. 
Fire,  steam,  lightning,  gravity,  ledges  of  rock,  mines  of 
iron,  lead,  quicksilver,  tin,  and  gold;  forests  of  all 
woods ;  fruits  of  all  climates ;  animals  of  all  habits ;  the 
powers  of  tillage;  the  fabrics  of  his  chemic  laboratory; 
the  webs  of  his  loom ;  the  masculine  draught  of  his  loco- 
motive, the  talismans  of  the  machine-shop ;  all  grand 
and  subtile  things,  minerals,  gases,  ethers,  passions,  war, 
trade,  government,  are  his  natural  playmates,  and,  ac- 


WEALTH.  75 

cording  to  the  excellence  of  the  machinery  in  each  human 
being,  is  his  attraction  for  the  instruments  he  is  to 
employ.  The  world  is  his  tool-chest,  and  he  is  success- 
ful, or  his  education  is  carried  on  just  so  far,  as  is  the 
marriage  of  his  faculties  with  nature,  or,  the  degree  in 
which  he  takes  up  things  into  himself. 

The  strong  race  is  strong  on  these  terms.  The  Saxons 
are  the  merchants  of  the  world;  now,  for  a  thousand 
years,  the  leading  race,  and  by  nothing  more  than  their 
quality  of  personal  independence,  and,  in  its  special  mod- 
ification, pecuniary  independence.  No  reliance  for  bread 
and  games  on  the  government,  no  clanship,  no  patriarchal 
style  of  living  by  the  revenues  of  a  chief,  no  marrying-on, 
—  no  system  of  clientship  suits  them ;  but  every  man 
must  pay  his  scot.  The  English  are  prosperous  and 
peaceful,  with  their  habit  of  considering  that  every  man 
must  take  care  of  himself,  and  has  himself  to  thank,  if  he 
do  not  maintain  and  improve  his  position  in  society. 

The  subject  of  economy  mixes  itself  with  morals,  inas- 
much as  it  is  a  peremptory  point  of  virtue  that  a  man's 
independence  is  secured.  Poverty  demoralizes.  A  man 
in  debt  is  so  far  a  slave  ;  and  Wall  Street  thinks  it  easy 
for  a  millionnaire  to  be  a  man  of  his  word,  a  man  of  hon- 
or, but,  that,  in  failing  circumstances,  no  man  can  be  re- 
lied on  to  keep  his  integrity.  And  when  one  observes  in 
the  hotels  and  palaces  of  our  Atlantic  capitals  the  habit 
of  expense,  the  riot  of  the  senses,  the  absence  of  bonds, 
clanship,  fellow-feeling  ef  any  kind,  he  feels,  that,  when 
a  man  or  a  woman  is  driven  to  the  wall,  the  chances  of 
integrity  are  frightfully  diminished,  as  if  virtue  were 
coining  to  be  a  luxury  which  few  could  afford,  or,  as 


76  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Burke  said,  "  at  a  market  almost  too  high  for  humanity." 
He  may  fix  his  inventory  of  necessities  and  of  enjoyments 
on  what  scale  he  pleases,  but  if  he  wishes  the  power  and 
privilege  of  thought,  the  chalking  out  his  own  career,  and 
having  society  on  his  own  terms,  he  must  bring  his  wants 
within  his  proper  power  to  satisfy. 

The  manly  part  is  to  do  with  might  and  main  what 
you  can  do.  The  world  is  full  of  fops  who  never  did 
anything,  and  who  have  persuaded  beauties  and  men  of 
genius  to  wear  their  fop  livery,  and  these  will  deliver  the 
fop  opinion,  that  it  is  not  respectable  to  be  seen  earning 
a  living  ;  that  it  is  much  more  respectable  to  spend  with- 
out earning ;  and  this  doctrine  of  the  snake  will  come 
also  from  the  elect  sons  of  light ;  for  wise  men  are  not 
wise  at  all  hours,  and  will  speak  five  times  from  their 
taste  or  their  humor,  to  once  from  their  reason.  The 
brave  workman,  who  might  betray  his  feeling  of  it  in  his 
manners,  if  he  do  not  succumb  in  his  practice,  must  re- 
place the  grace  or  elegance  forfeited,  by  the  merit  of  the 

'  work  done.  No  matter  whether  he  make  shoes,  or  stat- 
ues, or  laws.  It  is  the  privilege  of  any  human  work 
which  is  well  done  to  invest  the  doer  with  a  certain 
haughtiness.  He  can  well  afford  not  to  conciliate,  whose 
faithful  work  will  answer  for  him.  The  mechanic  at  his 

'  bench  carries  a  quiet  heart  and  assured  manners,  and 
deals  on  even  terms  with  men  of  any  condition.  The 
artist  has  made  his  picture  so  true,  that  it  disconcerts 
criticism.  The  statue  is  so  beautiful  that  it  contracts  no 
stain  from  the  market,  but  makes  the  market  a  silent  gal- 
lery for  itself.  The  case  of  the  young  lawyer  was  pitiful 
to  disgust,  —  a  paltry  matter  of  buttons  or  tweezer-cases ; 


WEALTH.  77 

but  the  determined  youth  saw  in  it  an  aperture  to  insert 
his  dangerous  wedges,  made  the  insignificance  of  the 
thing  forgotten,  and  gave  fame  by  his  sense  and  energy 
to  the  name  and  affairs  of  the  Tittleton  snuff-box  factory. 
Society  in  large  towns  is  babyish,  and  wealth  is  made 
a  toy.  The  life  of  pleasure  is  so  ostentatious,  that  a 
shallow  observer  must  believe  that  this  is  the  agreed  best 
use  of  wealth,  and,  whatever  is  pretended,  it  ends  in 

.  cosseting.  But,  if  this  were  the  main  use  of  surplus 
capital,  it  would  bring  us  to  barricades,  burned  towns, 
and  tomahawks,  presently.  Men  of  sense  esteem  wealth 
to  be  the  assimilation  of  nature  to  themselves,  the  con- 
verting of  the  sap  and  juices  of  the  planet  to  the  incar- 
nation and  nutriment  of  their  design.  Power  is  what 
they  want,  —  not  candy,  —  power  to  execute  their  de- 

i  sign,  power  to  give  legs  and  feet,  form  and  actuality,  to 
their  thought,  which,  to  a  clear-sighted  man,  appears  the 
end  for  which  the  Universe  exists,  and  all  its  resources 
might  be  well  applied.  Columbus  thinks  that  the  sphere 
is  a  problem  for  practical  navigation,  as  well  as  for  closet 
geometry,  and  looks  on  all  kings  and  peoples  as  cowardly 
landsmen,  until  they  dare  fit  him  out.  Tew  men  on  the 
planet  have  more  truly  belonged  to  it.  But  he  was 
forced  to  leave  much  of  his  map  blank.  His  successors 
inherited  his  map,  and  inherited  his  fury  to  complete  it. 
So  the  men  of  the  mine,  telegraph,  mill,  map,  and  sur- 
vey,—  the  monomaniacs,  who  talk  up  their  project  in 
marts,  and  offices,  and  entreat  men  to  subscribe  :  —  how 

(  did  our  factories  get  built  ?  How  did  North  America 
get  netted  with  iron  rails,  except  by  the  importunity  of 
these  orators,  who  dragged  all  the  prudent  men  in  ?  Is 


78  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

party  the  madness  of  many  for  the  gain  of  a  few  ?  This 
.  speculative  genius  is  the  madness  of  few  for  the  gain  of 
the  world.  The  projectors  are  sacrificed,  but  the  public 
is  the  gainer.  Each  of  these  idealists,  working  after  his 
thought,  would  make  it  tyrannical,  if  he  could.  He  is 
met  and  antagonized  by  other  speculators,  as  hot  as  he. 
The  equilibrium  is  preserved  by  these  counteractions,  as 
one  tree  keeps  down  another  in  the  forest,  that  it  may 
not  absorb  all  the  sap  in  the  ground.  And  the  supply  in 
nature  of  railroad  presidents,  copper-miners,  graud-junc- 
tioners,  smoke-burners,  fire-annihilators,  etc.,  is  limited 
by  the  same  law  which  keeps  the  proportion  in  the  sup- 
ply of  carbon,  of  alum,  and  of  hydrogen. 

To  be  rich  is  to  have  a  ticket  of  admission  to  the  mas- 
ter-works and  chief  men  of  each  race.  It  is  to  have  the 
sea,  by  voyaging ;  to  visit  the  mountains,  Niagara,  the 
Nile,  the  desert,  Rome,  Paris,  Constantinople;  to  see 
galleries,  libraries,  arsenals,  manufactories.  The  reader 
of  Humboldt's  "  Cosmos  "  follows  the  marches  of  a  man 
whose  eyes,  ears,  and  mind  are  armed  by  all  the  science, 
arts,  and  implements  which  mankind  have  anywhere 
accumulated,  and  who  is  using  these  to  add  to  the  stock. 
So  is  it  with  Denon,  Beckford,  Belzoni,  Wilkinson,  Lay- 
ard,  Kane,  Lepsius,  and  Livingstone.  "The  rich  man," 
says  Saadi,  "  is  everywhere  expected  and  at  home."  The 
rich  take  up  something  more  of  the  world  into  man's 
life.  They  include  the  country  as  well  as  the  town,  the 
ocean-side,  the  White  Hills,  the  Far  West,  and  the  old 
European  homesteads  of  man,  in  their  notion  of  availa- 
ble material.  The  world  is  his  who  has  money  to  go  over 
it.  He  arrives  at  the  sea-shore,  and  a  sumptuous  ship 


WEALTH.  79 

lias  floored  and  carpeted  for  him  the  stormy  Atlantic,  and 
made  it  a  luxurious  hotel,  amid  the  horrors  of  tempests. 
The  Persians  say,  "  'T  is  the  same  to  him  who  wears  a 
shoe,  as  if  the  whole  earth  were  covered  with  leather." 

Kings  are  said  to  have  long  arms,  but  every  man 
should  have  long  arms,  and  should  pluck  his  living,  his 
instruments,  his  power,  and  his  knowing,  from  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars.  Is  not  then  the  demand  to  be  rich 
legitimate  ?  Yet,  I  have  never  seen  a  rich  man.  I  have 
never  seen  a  man  as  rich  as  all  men  ought  to  be,  or,  with 
an  adequate  command  of  nature.  The  pulpit  and  the 
press  have  many  commonplaces  denouncing  the  thirst  for 
wealth ;  but  if  men  should  take  these  moralists  at  their 
word,  and  leave  off  aiming  to  be  rich,  the  moralists  would 
rush  to  rekindle  at  all  hazards  this  love  of  power  in  the 
people,  lest  civilization  should  be  undone.  Men  are 
urged  by  their  ideas  to  acquire  the  command  over  nature. 
Ages  derive  a  culture  from  the  wealth  of  "Roman  Caesars, 
Leo  Tenths,  magnificent  Kings  of  France,  Grand  Dukes 
of  Tuscany,  Dukes  of  Devonshire,  Townleys,  Vernons, 
and  Peels,  in  England ;  or  whatever  great  proprietors. ' 
It  is  the  interest  of  all  men,  that  there  should  be  Vati- 
cans  and  Louvres  full  of  noble  works  of  art;  British 
museums,  and  French  Gardens  of  Plants,  Philadelphia 
Academies  of  Natural  History,  Bodleian,  Ambrosian, 
Royal,  Congressional  Libraries.  It  is  the  interest  of  all 
that  there  should  be  Exploring  Expeditions;  Captain 
Cooks  to  voyage  round  the  world,  Rosses,  Franklins, 
Richardsons,  and  Kanes,  to  find  the  magnetic  and  the 
geographic  poles.  We  are  all  richer  for  the  measurement 
of  a  degree  of  latitude  oa.  the  earth's  surface.  Our  navi- 


80  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

gallon  is  safer  for  the  chart.  How  intimately  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  system  of  the  Universe  rests  on  that !  —  and 
a  true  economy  in  a  state  or  an  individual  will  forget  its 
frugality  in  behalf  of  claims  like  these. 

Whilst  it  is  each  man's  interest,  that,  not  only  ease 
and  convenience  of  living,  but  also  wealth  or  surplus 
product  should  exist  somewhere,  it  need  not  be  in  his 
hands.  Often  it  is  very  undesirable  to  him.  Goethe 
said  well,  "  Nobody  should  be  rich  but  those  who  under- 
stand it."  Some  men  are  born  to  own,  and  can  animate 
all  their  possessions.  Others  cannot :  their  owning  is 
not  graceful ;  seems  to  be  a  compromise  of  their  char- 
acter: they  seem  to  steal  their  own  dividends.  They 
should  own  who  can  administer ;  not  they  who  hoard  and 
conceal ;  not  they  who,  the  greater  proprietors  they  are, 
are  only  the  greater  beggars,  but  they  whose  work  carves 
out  work  for  more,  opens  a  path  for  all.  Tor  he  is  the 
rich  man  in  whom  the  people  are  rich,  and  he  is  the  poor 
man  in  whom  the  people  are  poor ;  and  how  to  give  all 
access  to  the  masterpieces  of  art  and  nature,  is  the  prob- 
lem of  civilization.  The  socialism  of  our  day  has  done 
good  service  in  setting  men  on  thinking  how  certain  civ- 
ilizing benefits,  now  only  enjoyed  by  the  opulent,  can  be 
enjoyed  by  all.  For  example,  the  providing  to  each  man 
the  means  and  apparatus  of  science,  and  of  the  arts. 
There  are  many  articles  good  for  occasional  use,  which 
tew  men  are  able  to  own.  Every  man  wishes  to  see  the 
ring  of  Saturn,  the  satellites  and  belts  of  Jupiter  and 
Mars ;  the  mountains  and  craters  in  the  moon  :  yet  how 
few  can  buy  a  telescope  !  and  of  those,  scarcely  one  would 
like  the  trouble  of  keeping  it  in  order,  and  exhibiting  it. 


WEALTH.  81 

So  of  electrical  and  chemical  apparatus,  and  many  the 
like  things.  Every  man  may  have  occasion  to  consult 
books  which  he  does  not  care  to  possess,  such  as  cyclo- 
paedias, dictionaries,  tables,  charts,  maps,  and  public  doc- 
uments :  pictures  also  of  birds,  beasts,  fishes,  shells,  trees, 
flowers,  whose  names  he  desires  to  know. 

There  is  a  refining  influence  from  the  arts  of  Design 
on  a  prepared  mind,  which  is  as  positive  as  that  of  music, 
and  not  to  be  supplied  from  any  other  source.  But  pic- 
tures, engravings,  statues,  and  casts,  beside  their  first 
cost,  entail  expenses,  as  of  galleries  and  keepers  for  the 
exhibition ;  and  the  use  which  any  man  can  make  of 
them  is  rare,  and  their  value,  too,  is  much  enhanced  by 
the  numbers  of  men  who  can  share  their  enjoyment.  In 
the  Greek  cities,  it  was  reckoned  profane,  that  any  person 
should  pretend  a  property  in  a  work  of  art,  which  be- 
longed to  all  who  could  behold  it.  I  think  sometimes, 
could  I  only  have  music  on  my  own  terms ;  could  I  live 
in  a  great  city,  and  know  where  I  could  go  whenever  I 
wished  the  ablution  and  inundation  of  musical  waves,  — 
that  were  a  bath  and  a  medicine. 

If  properties  of  this  kind  were  owned  by  states,  towns, 
and  lyceums,  they  would  draw  the  bonds  of  neighbor- 
hood closer.  A  town  would  exist  to  an  intellectual  pur- 
pose. In  Europe,  where  the  feudal  forms  secure  the 
permanence  of  wealth  in  certain  families,  those  families 
buy  and  preserve  these  things,  and  lay  them  open  to  the 
public.  But  in  America,  where  democratic  institutions 
divide  every  estate  into  small  portions,  after  a  few  years, 
the  public  should  step  into  the  place  of  these  proprietors, 
and  provide  this  culture  and  inspiration  for  the  citizen.  . 
4*  P 


82  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Man  was  born  to  be  rich,  or,  inevitably  grows  rich  by 
the  use  of  his  faculties;  by  the  union  of  thought  with 
nature.  Property  is  an  intellectual  production.  The 
game  requires  coolness,  right  reasoning,  promptness,  and 
patience  in  the  players.  Cultivated  labor  drives  out 
brute  labor.  An  infinite  number  of  shrewd  men,  in  in- 
finite years,  have  arrived  at  certain  best  and  shortest 
ways  of  doing,  and  this  accumulated  skill  in  arts,  cul- 
tures, harvestings,  curings,  manufactures,  navigations, 
exchanges,  constitutes  the  worth  of  our  world  to-day. 

Commerce  is  a  game  of  skill,  which  every  man  cannot 
play,  which  few  men  can  play  well.  The  right  merchant 
is  one  who  has  the  just  average  of  faculties  we  call  com- 
mon-sense ;  a  man  of  a  strong  affinity  for  facts,  who  makes 
up  his  decision  on  what  he  has  seen.  He  is  thoroughly 
persuaded  of  the  truths  of  arithmetic.  There  is  always  a 
reason,  in  the  man,  for  his  good  or  bad  fortune,  and  so, 
in  making  money.  Men  talk  as  if  there  were  some  magic 
about  this,  and  believe  in  magic,  in  all  parts  of  life.  He 
knows,  that  all  goes  on  the  old  road,  pound  for  pound, 
cent  for  cent,  —  for  every  effect  a  perfect  cause,  —  and 
that  good  luck  is  another  name  for  tenacity  of  purpose. 
He  insures  himself  in  every  transaction,  and  likes  small 
and  sure  gains.  Probity  and  closeness  to  the  facts  are 
the  basis,  but  the  masters  of  the  art  add  a  certain  long 
arithmetic.  The  problem  is,  to  combine  many  and  remote 
operations,  with  the  accuracy  and  adherence  to  the  facts, 
which  is  easy  in  near  and  small  transactions  ;  so  to  arrive 
at  gigantic  results,  without  any  compromise  of  safety. 
Napoleon  was  fond  of  telling  the  story  of  the  Marseilles 
banker,  who  said  to  his  visitor,  surprised  at  the  contrast 


WEALTH.  83 

between  tlie  splendor  of  the  banker's  chateau  and  hospi- 
tality, and  the  meanness  of  the  counting-room  in  which 
he  had  seen  him :  "  Young  man,  you  are  too  young  to 
understand  how  masses  are  formed,  —  the  true  and  only 
power,  —  whether  composed  of  money,  water,  or  men, 
it  is  all  alike,  —  a  mass  is  an  immense  centre  of  motion, 
but  it  must  be  begun,  it  must  be  kept  up " :  and  he 
might  have  added,  that  the  way  in  which  it  must  be  be- 
gun and  kept  up  is,  by  obedience  to  the  law  of  particles. 

Success  consists  in  close  appliance  to  the  laws  of  the 
world,  and,  since  those  laws  are  intellectual  and  moral, 
an  intellectual  and  moral  obedience.  Political  Economy 
is  as  good  a  book  wherein  to  read  the  life  of  man,  and 
the  ascendency  of  laws  over  all  private  and  hostile  influ- 
ences, as  any  Bible  which  has  come  down  to  us. 

Money  is  representative,  and  follows  the  nature  and 
fortunes  of  the  owner.  The  coin  is  a  delicate  meter  of 
civil,  social,  and  moral  changes.  The  farmer  is  covetous 
of  his  dollar,  and  with  reason.  It  is  no  waif  to  him. 
He  knows  how  many  strokes  of  labor  it  represents.  His 
bones  ache  with  the  day's  work  that  earned  it.  He 
knows  how  much  land  it  represents ;  —  how  much  rain, 
frost,  and  sunshine.  He  knows  that,  in  the  dollar,  he 
gives  you  so  much  discretion  and  patience,  so  much  hoe- 
ing and  threshing.  Try  to  lift  his  dollar ;  you  must  lift 
all  that  weight.  In  the  city,  where  money  follows  the 
skit  of  a  pen,  or  a  lucky  rise  in  exchange,  it  conies  to  be 
looked  on  as  light.  I  wish  the  farmer  held  it  dearer,  and 
;  would  spend  it  only  for  real  bread ;  force  for  force. 

The  farmer's  dollar  is  heavy,  and  the  clerk's  is  light 
and  nimble ;  leaps  out  of  his  pocket;  jumps  on  to  cards 


84  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

and  faro-tables :  but  still  more  curious  is  its  susceptibility 
to  metaphysical  changes.  It  is  the  finest  barometer  of 
social  storms,  and  announces  revolutions. 

Every  step  of  civil  advancement  makes  every  man's 
dollar  worth  more.  In  California,  the  country  where  it 
grew,  —  what  would  it  buy  ?  A  few  years  since,  it  would 
buy  a  shanty,  dysentery,  hunger,  bad  company,  and  crime. 
There  are  wide  countries,  like  Siberia,  where  it  would 
buy  little  else  to-day,  than  some  petty  mitigation  of  suf- 
fering. In  Rome,  it  will  buy  beauty  and  magnificence. 
Forty  years  ago,  a  dollar  would  not  buy  much  in  Boston. 
Now  it  will  buy  a  great  deal  more  in  our  old  town, 
thanks  to  railroads,  telegraphs,  steamers,  and  the  con- 
temporaneous .growth  of  New  York,  and  the  whole  coun- 
try. Yet  there  are  many  goods  appertaining  to  a  capital 
city,  which  are  not  yet  purchasable  here,  no,  not  with  a 
mountain  of  dollars.  A  dollar  in  Florida  is  not  worth  a 
dollar  in  Massachusetts.  A  dollar  is  not  value,  but  rep- 
resentative of  value,  and,  at  last,  of  moral  values.  A  dol- 
lar is  rated  for  the  corn  it  will  buy,  or  to  speak  strictly, 
not  for  the  corn  or  house-room,  but  for  Athenian  corn, 
and  Roman  house-room,  —  for  the  wit,  probity,  and 
power,  which  we  eat  bread  and  dwell  in  houses  to  share 
and  exert.  Wealth  is  mental ;  wealth  is  moral.  The 
value  of  a  dollar  is,  to  buy  just  things  :  a  dollar  goes  on 
increasing  in  value  with  all  the  genius,  and  all  the  virtue 
of  the  world.  A  dollar  in  a  university  is  worth  more 
than  a  dollar  in  a  jail ;  in  a  temperate,  schooled,  law- 
abiding  community,  than  in  some  sink  of  crime,  where 
dice,  knives,  and  arsenic  are  in  constant  play. 

The  "Bank -Note  Detector"  is  a  useful  publication. 


WEALTH.  85 

But  the  current  dollar,  silver  or  paper,  is  itself  the  detector 
1  of  the  right  and  wrong  where  it  circulates.  Is  it  not  in- 
stantly enhanced  by  the  increase  of  equity  ?  If  a  trader 
refuses  to  sell  his  vote,  or  adheres  to  some  odious  right, 
he  makes  so  much  more  equity  in  Massachusetts;  and 
every  acre  in  the  State  is  more  worth,  in  the  hour  of  his 
action.  If  you  take  out  of  State  Street  the  ten  honestest 
merchants,  and  put  in  ten  roguish  persons,  controlling 
the  same  amount  of  capital,  —  the  rates  of  insurance  will 
indicate  it ;  the  soundness  of  banks  will  show  it :  the 
highways  will  be  less  secure  :  the  schools  will  feel  it ; 
the  children  will  bring  home  their  little  dose  of  the  poi- 
son :  the  judge  will  sit  less  firmly  on  the  bench,  and  his 
decisions  be  less  upright;  he  has  lost  so  much  support 
and  constraint,  —  which  all  need  ;  and  the  pulpit  will  be- 
tray it,  in  a  laxer  rule  of  life.  An  apple-tree,  if  you  take 
out  every  day,  for  a  number  of  days,  a  load  of  loam,  and 
put  in  a  load  of  sand  about  its  roots,  will  find  it  out.  An 
apple-tree  is  a  stupid  kind  of  creature,  but  if  this  treat- 
ment be  pursued  for  a  short  time,  I  think  it  would  begin 
to  mistrust  •mething.  And  if  you  should  take  out  of 
the  powerful  class  engaged  in  trade  a  hundred  good  men, 
and  put  in  a  hundred  bad,  or,  what  is  just  the  same 
thing,  introduce  a  demoralizing  institution,  would  not  the 
dollar,  which  is  not  much  stupider  than  an  apple-tree, 
presently  find  it  out  ?  The  value  of  a  dollar  is  social,  as 
it  is  created  by  society.  Every  man  who  removes  into 
this  city,  witli  any  purchasable  talent  or  skill  in  him,  gives 
to  every  man's  labor  in  the  city  a  new  worth.  If  a  talent 
is  anywhere  born  into  the  world,  the  community  of  na- 
tions is  enriched ;  and,  much  more,  with  a  new  degree  of 


86  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

probity.  The  expense  of  crime,  one  of  the  principal 
charges  of  every  nation,  is  so  far  stopped.  In  Europe, 
crime  is  observed  to  increase  or  abate  with  the  price  of 
bread.  If  the  Rothschilds  at  Paris  do  not  accept  bills, 
the  people  at  Manchester,  at  Paisley,  at  Birmingham,  are 
forced  into  the  highway,  and  landlords  are  shot  down 
in  Ireland.  The  police  records  attest  it.  The  vibra- 
tions are  presently  felt  in  New  York,  New  Orleans,  and 
Chicago.  Not  much  otherwise,  the  economical  power 
touches  the  masses  through  the  political  lords.  Roths- 
child refuses  the  Russian  loan,  and  there  is  peace,  and 
the  harvests  are  saved.  He  takes  it,  and  there  is  war, 
and  an  agitation  through  a  large  portion  of  mankind, 
with  every  hideous  result,  ending  in  revolution,  and  a 
new  order. 

Wealth  brings  with  it  its  own  checks  and  balances. 
The  basis  of  political  economy  is  non-interference.  The 
only  safe  rule  is  found  in  the  self-adjusting  meter  of  de- 
mand and  supply.  Do  not  legislate.  Meddle,  and  you 
snap  the  sinews  with  your  sumptuary  laws.  Give  no 
bounties  :  make  equal  laws  :  secure  life  and  .property,  and 
you  need  not  give  alms.  Open  the  doors  of  opportunity 
to  talent  and  virtue,  and  they  will  do  themselves  justice, 
and  property  will  not  be  in  bad  hands.  In  a  free  and 
just  commonwealth,  property  rushes  from  the  idle  and 
imbecile,  to  the  industrious,  brave,  and  persevering. 

The  laws  of  nature  play  through  trade,  as  a  toy-bat- 
tery exhibits  the  effects  of  electricity.  The  level  of  the 
sea  is  not  more  surely  kept,  than  is  the  equilibrium  of 
value  in  society,  by  the  demand  and  supply ;  and  artifice 
or  legislation  punishes  itself  by  reactions,  gluts,  and  bank- 


WEALTH.  87 

ruptcies.  The  sublime  laws  play  indifferently  through 
atoms  and  galaxies.  Whoever  knows  what  happens  in 
the  getting  and  spending  of  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  pint  of 
beer ;  that  no  wishing  will  change  the  rigorous  limits  of 
pints  and  penny  loaves ;  that,  for  all  that  is  consumed, 
so  much  less  remains  in  the  basket  and  pot ;  but  what  is 
gone  out  of  these  is  not  wasted,  but  well  spent,  if  it 
nourish  his  body,  and  enable  him  to  finish  his  task ;  — 
knows  all  of  political  economy  that  the  budgets  of  em- 
pires  can  teach  him.  The  interest  of  petty  economy  is 
this  symbolization  of  the  great  economy;  the  way  in 
which  a  house  and  a  private  man's  methods  tally  with 
the  solar  system,  and  the  laws  of  give  and  take,  through- 
out nature  ;  and  however  wary  we  are  of  the  falsehoods 
and  petty  tricks  which  we  suicidally  play  off  on  each 
other,  every  man  has  a  certain  satisfaction,  whenever  his 
dealing  touches  on  the  inevitable  facts ;  when  he  sees 
that  tilings  themselves  dictate  the  price,  as  they  always 
tend  to  do,  and,  in  large  manufactures,  are  seen  to  do. 
Your  paper  is  not  fine  or  coarse  enough,  —  is  too  heavy, 
or  too  thin.  The  manufacturer  says,  he  will  furnish  you 
with  just  that  thickness  or  thinness  you  want ;  the  pattern 
is  quite  indifferent  to  him ;  here  is  his  schedule ;  any 
variety  of  paper,  as  cheaper  or  dearer,  with  the  prices 
annexed.  A  pound  of  paper  costs  so  much,  and  you 
may  have  it  made  up  in  any  pattern  you  fancy. 

There  is  in  all  our  dealings  a  self-regulation  that  su- 
persedes chaffering.  You  will  rent  a  house,  but  must 
have  it  cheap.  The  owner  can  reduce  the  rent,  but  so 
he  incapacitates  himself  from  making  proper  repairs,  and 
the  tenant  gets  not  the  house  he  would  have,  but  a  worse 


88  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

one ;  besides,  that  a  relation  a  little  injurious  is  established 
between  landlord  and  tenant.  You  dismiss  your  laborer, 
saying,  "  Patrick,  I  shall  send  for  you  as  soon  as  I  can- 
not do  without  you. "  Patrick  goes  off  contented,  for 
he  knows  that  the  weeds  will  grow  with  the  potatoes,  the 
vines  must  be  planted,  next  week,  and,  however  unwill- 
ing you  may  be,  the  cantelopes,  crook-necks,  and  cucum- 
bers will  send  for  him.  Who  but  must  wish  that  all  labor 
and  value  should  stand  on  the  same  simple  and  surly 
market  ?  If  it  is  the  best  of  its  kind,  it  will.  We  must 
have  joiner,  locksmith,  planter,  priest,  poet,  doctor,  cook, 
weaver,  ostler ;  each  in  turn,  through  the  year. 

If  a  St.  Michael's  pear  sells  for  a  shilling,  it  costs  a 
shilling  to  raise  it.  If,  in  Boston,  the  best  securities 
offer  twelve  per  cent  for  money,  they  have  just  six  per 
cent  of  insecurity.  You  may  not  see  that  the  fine  pear 
costs  you  a  shilling,  but  it  costs  the  community  so  much. 
The  shilling  represents  the  number  of  enemies  the  pear 
has,  and  the  amount  of  risk  in  ripening  it.  The  price  of 
coal  shows  the  narrowness  of  the  coal-field,  and  a  compul- 
sory confinement  of  the  miners  to  a  certain  district. 
All  salaries  are  reckoned  on  contingent,  as  well  as  on 
actual  services.  "  If  the  wind  were  always  southwest  by 
west,"  said  the  skipper,  "women  might  take  ships  to 
sea."  One  might  say,  that  all  things  are  of  one  price ;  that 
nothing  is  cheap  or  dear  ;  and  that  the  apparent  dispari- 
ties that  strike  us  are  only  a  shopman's  trick  of  conceal- 
ing the  damage  in  your  bargain.  A  youth  coming  into 
the  city  from  his  native  New  Hampshire  farm,  with  its 
hard  fare  still  fresh  in  his  remembrance,  boards  at  a  first- 
class  hotel,  and  believes  he  must  somehow  have  outwitted 


WEALTH.  89 

Dr.  Franklin  and  Malthus,  for  luxuries  are  cheap.  But 
he  pays  for  the  one  convenience  of  a  better  dinner,  by  the 
loss  of  some  of  the  richest  social  and  educational  advan- 
tages. He  has  lost  what  guards  !  what  incentives  !  He 
will  perhaps  find  by  and  by,  that  he  left  the  Muses  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel,  and  found  the  Furies  inside.  Money 
often  costs  too  much,  and  power  and  pleasure  are  not 
cheap.  The  ancient  poet  said,  "  The  gods  sell  all  things 
at  a  fair  price." 

There  is  an  example  of  the  compensations  in  the  com- 
mercial history  of  this  country.  When  the  European 
wars  threw  the  carrying-trade  of  the  world,  from  1800 
to  1812,  into  American  bottoms,  a  seizure  was  now  and 
then  made  of  an  American  ship.  Of  course,  the  loss  was 
serious  to  the  owner,  but  the  country  was  indemnified ; 
for  we  charged  threepence  a  pound  1'or  currying  cotton, 
sixpence  for  tobacco,  and  so  on ;  which  paid  for  the  risk 
and  loss,  and  brought  into  the  country  an  immense  pros- 
perity, early  marriages,  private  wealth,  the  building  of 
cities,  and  of  states ;  and,  after  the  war  was  over,  we 
received  compensation  over  and  above,  by  treaty,  for  all 
the  seizures.  Well,  the  Americans  grew  rich  and  great. 
But  the  pay-day  comes  round.  Britain,  France,  and 
Germany,  which  our  extraordinary  profits  had  impov- 
erished, send  out,  attracted  by  the  fame  of  our  advan- 
tages, first  their  thousands,  then  their  millions,  of  poor 
people,  to  share  the  crop.  At  first,  we  employ  them, 
and  increase  our  prosperity  ;  but,  in  the  artificial  system 
of  society  and  of  protected  labor,  which  we  also  have 
adopted  and  enlarged,  there  come  presently  checks  and 
stoppages.  Then  we  refuse  to  employ  these  poor  men. 


90  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

But  they  will  not  so  be  answered.  They  go  into  the 
poor-rates,  and,  though  we  refuse  wages,  we  must  now 
pay  the  same  amount  in  the  form  of  taxes.  Again,  it 
turns  out  that  the  largest  proportion  of  crimes  are  com- 
mitted by  foreigners.  The  cost  of  the  crime,  and  the 
expense  of  courts,  and  of  prisons,  we  must  bear,  and 
the  standing  army  of  preventive  police  we  must  pay. 
The  cost  of  education  of  the  posterity  of  this  great  col- 
ony, I  will  not  compute.  But  the  gross  amount  of  these 
costs  will  begin  to  pay  back  what  we  thought  was  a  net 
gain  from  our  Transatlantic  customers  of  1800.  It  is 
vain  to  refuse  this  payment.  We  cannot  get  rid  of  these 
people,  and  we  cannot  get  rid  of  their  will  to  be  sup- 
ported. That  has  become  an  inevitable  element  in  our 
politics ;  and,  for  their  votes,  each  of  the  dominant  par- 
ties courts  and  assists  them  to  get  it  executed.  More- 
over, we  have  to  pay,  not  what  would  have  contented 
them  at  home,  but  what  they  have  learned  to  think  neces- 
sary here ;  so  that  opinion,  fancy,  and  all  manner  of 
moral  considerations  complicate  the  problem. 

These  were  the  prevalent  opinions  in  1850.  Yet  this 
result  is  no  more  final  than  the  last.  We  have  hardly 
time  to  study  this  adjustment  and  deplore  these  disad- 
vantages, before  the  scale  rights  itself  again,  this  time 
disclosing  new  and  immense  benefits.  For  this  countless 
host  of  immigrants  are  now  seen  to  be  adding  by  their 
labor  to  the  wealth  of  the  country.  They  plant  the  wil- 
derness with  wheat  and  corn,  work  the  mines  for  coal 
and  lead  and  copper  and  gold,  build  roads  and  towns  and 
states,  create  a  market  for  the  manufactures  and  com- 
merce  of  either  sea-coast,  and  swell  by  their  taxes  the 
national  treasury. 


WEALTH.  91 

There  are  a  few  measures  of  economy  which  will  bear 
to  be  named  without  disgust;  for  the  subject  is  tender, 
and  we  may  easily  have  too  much  of  it ;  and  therein  re- 
sembles the  hideous  animalcules  of  which  our  bodies  are 
built  up,  —  which,  offensive  in  the  particular,  yet  com- 
pose valuable  and  effective  masses.  Our  nature  and 
genius  force  us  to  respect  ends,  whilst  we  use  means. 
We  must  use  the  means,  and  yet,  in  our  most  accurate 
using,  somehow  screen  and  cloak  them,  as  we  can  only 
give  them  any  beauty,  by  a  reflection  of  the  glory  of  the 
end.  That  is  the  good  head,  which  serves  the  end,  and 
commands  the  means.  The  rabble  are  corrupted  by  their 
means :  the  means  are  too  strong  for  them,  and  they 
desert  their  end. 

1.  The  first  of  these  measures  is  that  each  man's  ex- 
pense must  proceed  from  his  character.  As  long  as  your  • 
genius  buys,  the  investment  is  safe,  though  you  spend 
like  a  monarch.  Nature  arms  each  man  with  some  fac- 
ulty which  enables  him  to  do  easily  some  feat  impossible 
to  any  other,  and  thus  makes  him  necessary  to  society. 
This  native  determination  guides  his  labor  and  his  spend- 
ing. He  wants  an  equipment  of  means  and  tools  proper 
to  his  talent.  And  to  save  on  this  point  were  to  neu- 
tralize the  special  strength  and  helpfulness  of  each  mind. 
Do  your  work,  respecting  the  excellence  of  the  work, 
and  not  its  acceptableuess.  This  is  so  much  economy, 
that,  rightly  read,  it  is  the  sum  of  economy.  Profligacy 
consists  not  in  spending  years  of  time  or  chests  of  mon- 
ey, —  but  in  spending  them  off  the  line  of  your  career. 
The  crime  which  bankrupts  men  and  states  is,  job-work , 
—  declining  from  your  main  design,  to  serve  a  turn  here 


92  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

or  there.  Nothing  is  beneath  you,  if  it  is  in  the  direc- 
tion of  your  life :  nothing  is  great  or  desirable,  if  it  is 
off  from  that.  I  think  we  are  entitled  here  to  draw  a 
straight  line,  and  say,  that  society  can  never  prosper, 
but  must  always  be  bankrupt,  until  every  man  does  that 
which  he  was  created  to  do. 

Spend  for  your  expense,  and  retrench  the  expense 
which  is  not  yours.  Allston,  the  painter,  was  wont  to 
say,  that  he  built  a  plain  house,  and  filled  it  with  plain 
furniture,  because  he  would  hold  out  no  bribe  to  any  to 
visit  him,  who  had  not  similar  tastes  to  his  own.  We 
are  sympathetic,  and,  like  children,  want  everything  we 
see.  But  it  is  a  large  stride  to  independence, — when 
a  man,  in  the  discovery  of  his  proper  talent,  has  sunk 
the  necessity  for  false  expenses.  As  the  betrothed 
maiden,  by  one  secure  affection,  is  relieved  from  a  sys- 
tem of  slaveries, — the  daily  inculcated  necessity  of 
pleasing  all,  —  so  the  man  who  has  found  what  he  can  do, 
can  spend  on  that,  and  leave  all  other  spending.  Mon- 
taigne said :  "  When  he  was  a  younger  brother,  he  went 
brave  in  dress  and  equipage,  but  afterward  his  chateau 
and  farms  might  answer  for  him."  Let  a  man  who 
belongs  to  the  class  of  nobles,  those,  namely,  who  have 
found  out  that  they  can  do  something,  relieve  himself  of 
all  vague  squandering  on  objects  not  his.  Let  the  realist 
not  mind  appearances.  Let  him  delegate  to  others  the 
costly  courtesies  and  decorations  of  social  life.  The  vir- 
tues are  economists,  but  some  of  the  vices  are  also. 
Thus,  next  to  humility,  I  have  noticed  that  pride  is  a 
pretty  good  husband.  A  good  pride  is,  as  I  reckon  it, 
worth  from  five  hundred  to  fifteen  hundred  a  year.  Pride 


WEALTH.  93 

is  handsome,  economical :  pride  eradicates  so  many  vices, 
letting  none  svibsist  but  itself,  that  it  seems  as  if  it  were 
a  great  gain  to  exchange  vanity  for  pride.  Pride  can 
go  without  domestics,  without  fine  clothes,  can  live  in  a 
house  with  two  rooms,  can  eat  potato,  purslain,  beans, 
lyed  corn,  can  work  on  the  soil,  can  travel  afoot,  can  talk 
with  poor  men,  or  sit  silent  well-contented  in  fine  saloons. 
But  vanity  costs  money,  labor,  horses,  men,  women, 
health,  and  peace,  and  is  still  nothing  at  last,  a  long  way 
leading  nowhere.  Only  one  drawback ;  proud  people  are 
intolerably  selfish,  and  the  vain  are  gentle  and  giving. 

Art  is  a  jealous  mistress,  and,  if  a  man  have  a  genius 
for  painting,  poetry,  music,  architecture,  or  philosophy, 
he  makes  a  bad  husband,  and  an  ill  provider,  and  should 
be  wise  in  season,  and  not  fetter  himself  with  duties 
which  will  embitter  his  days,  and  spoil  him  for  his  proper 
work.  We  had  in  this  region,  twenty  years  ago,  among 
our  educated  men,  a  sort  of  Arcadian  fanaticism,  a  pas- 
sionate desire  to  go  upon  the  land,  and  unite  farming  to 
intellectual  pursuits.  Many  effected  their  purpose,  and 
made  the  experiment,  and  some  became  downright  plough- 
men ;  but  all  were  cured  of  their  faith  that  scholarship 
and  practical  farming  (I  mean,  with  one's  own  hands) 
could  be  united. 

With  brow  bent,  with  firm  intent,  the  pale  scholar 
leaves  his  desk  to  draw  a  freer  breath,  and  get  a  juster 
statement  of  his  thought,  in  the  garden-walk.  He  stoops 
to  pull  up  a  purslain,  or  a  dock,  that  is  choking  the  young 
corn,  and  finds  there  are  two :  close  behind  the  last  is  a 
third  ;  he  reaches  out  his  hand  to  a  fourth  ;  behind  that 
are  four  thousand  and  one.  He  is  heated  and  untuned, 


94  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

and,  by  and  by,  wakes  up  from  his  idiot  dream  of  chick- 
weed  and  red-root,  to  remember  his  morning  thought, 
and  to  find,  that,  with  his  adamantine  purposes,  he  has 
been  duped  by  a  dandelion.  A  garden  is  like  those  per- 
nicious machineries  we  read  of,  every  month,  in  the  news- 
papers, which  catch  a  man's  coat-skirt  or  his  hand,  and 
draw  in  his  arm,  his  leg,  and  his  whole  body  to  irresist- 
ible destruction.  In  an  evil  hour  he  pulled  down  his 
wall,  and  added  a  field  to  his  homestead.  No  land  is 
bad,  but  laud  is  worse.  If  a  man  own  land,  the  land 
owns  him.  Now  let  him  leave  home,  if  he  dare.  Every 
tree  and  graft,  every  hill  of  melons,  row  of  corn,  or  quick- 
set hedge,  all  lie  has  done,  and  all  he  means  to  do,  stand 
in  his  way,  like  duns,  when  he  would  go  out  of  his  gate. 
The  devotion  to  these  vines  and  trees  he  finds  poisonous. 
Long  free  walks,  a  circuit  of  miles,  free  his  brain,  and 
serve  his  body.  Long  marches  are  no  hardship  to  him. 
He  believes  he  composes  easily  on  the  hills.  But  this 
pottering  in  a  few  square  yards  of  garden  is  dispiriting 
and  drivelling.  The  smell  of  the  plants  has  drugged  him, 
and  robbed  him  of  energy.  He  finds  a  catalepsy  in  his 
bones.  He  grows  peevisli  and  poor-spirited.  The  gen- 
ius of  reading  and  of  gardening  are  antagonistic,  like 
resinous  and  vitreous  electricity.  One  is' concentrative 
in  sparks  and  shocks  :  the  other  is  diffuse  strength ;  so 
that  each  disqualifies  its  workman  for  the  other's  duties. 

An  engraver  whose  hands  must  be  of  an  exquisite  deli- 
cacy of  stroke  should  not  lay  stone-walls.  Sir  David 
Brewster  gives  exact  instructions  for  microscopic  obser- 
vation :  "  Lie  down  on  your  back,  and  hold  the  single 
lens  and  object  over  your  eye,"  etc.,  etc.  How  much 


WEALTH.  95 

more  the  seeker  of  abstract  truth,  who  needs  periods  of 
isolation,  and  rapt  concentration,  and  almost  a  going 
out  of  the  body  to  think  ! 

2.  Spend  after  your  genius,  and  by  system.  Nature 
goes  by  rule,  not  by  sallies  and  saltations.  There  must 
be  system  in  the  economies.  Saving  and  unexpensive- 
ness  will  not  keep  the  most  pathetic  family  from  ruin, 
nor  will  bigger  incomes  make  free  spending  safe.  The 
secret  of  success  lies  never  in  the  amount  of  money,  but 
in  the  relation  of  income  to  outgo ;  as  if,  after  expense 
has  been  fixed  at  a  certain  point,  then  new  and  steady 
rills  of  income,  though  never  so  small,  being  added, 
wealth  begins.  But  in  ordinary,  as  means  increase, 
spending  increases  faster,  so  that,  large  incomes,  in  Eng- 
land and  elsewhere,  are  found  not  to  help  matters ;  —  the 
eating  quality  of  debt  does  not  relax  its  voracity.  When 
the  cholera  is  in  the  potato,  what  is  the  use  of  planting 
larger  crops  ?  In  England,  the  richest  country  in  the 
universe,  I  was  assured  by  shrewd  observers,  that  great 
lords  and  ladies  had  no  more  guineas  to  give  away  than 
other  people  ;  that  liberality  with  money  is  as  rare,  and 
as  immediately  famous  a  virtue  as  if  is  here.  Want  is  a 
growing  giant  whom  the  coat  of  Have  was  never  large 
enough  to  cov«.  I  remember  in  Warwickshire,  to  have 
been  shown  a  fair  manor,  still  in  the  same  name  as  in 
Shakespeare's  time.  The  rent-roll,  I  was  told,  is  some 
fourteen  thousand  pounds  a  year :  but,  when  the  second 
son  of  the  late  proprietor  was  born,  the  father  was  per- 
plexed how  to  provide  for  him.  The  eldest  son  must  in- 
herit the  manor ;  what  to  do  with  this  supernumerary  ? 
He  was  advised  to  breed  him  for  the  Church,  and  to  set- 


96  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

tie  him  in  the  rectorship,  which  was  in  the  gift  of  the 
family;  which  was  done.  It  is  a  general  rule  in  that 
country,  that  bigger  incomes  do  not  help  anybody.  It  is 
commonly  observed,  that  z.  sudden  wealth,  like  a  prize 
drawn  in  a  lottery,  or  a  large  bequest  to  a  poor  family, 
does  not  permanently  enrich.  They  have  served  no 
apprenticeship  to  wealth,  and,  with  the  rapid  wealth, 
come  rapid  claims :  which  they  do  not  know  how  to 
deny,  and  the  treasure  is  quickly  dissipated. 

A  system  must  be  in  every  economy,  or  the  best  single 
expedients  are  of  no  avail.  A  farm  is  a  good  thing  when 
it  begins  and  ends  with  itself,  and  does  not  need  a  salary, 
or  a  shop,  to  eke  it  out.  Thus,  the  cattle  are  a  main  link 
in  the  chain-ring.  If  the  non-conformist  or  aesthetic 
farmer  leaves  out  the  cattle,  and  does  not  also  leave  out 
the  want  which  the  cattle  must  supply,  he  must  fill  the 
gap  by  begging  or  stealing.  When  men  now  alive  were 
born,  the  farm  yielded  everything  that  was  consumed  on 
it.  The  farm  yielded  no  money,  and  the  farmer  got  on 
without.  If  he  fell  sick,  his  neighbors  came  in  to  his 
aid :  each  gave  a  day's  work  ;  or  a  half-day  ;  or  lent  his 
yoke  of  oxen,  or  his  horse,  and  kept  his  work  even  :  hoed 
his  potatoes,  mowed  his  hay,  reaped  his  rye ;  well  know- 
ing that  no  man  could  afford  to  hire  lab£r,  without  sell- 
ing his  land.  In  autumn,  a  farmer  could  sell  an  ox  or  a 
hog,  and  get  a  little  money  to  pay  taxes  withal.  Now, 
the  farmer  buys  almost  all  he  consumes,  —  tin-ware, 
cloth,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  fish,  coal,  railroad  tickets,  and 
newspapers.  % 

A  master  in  each  art  is  required,  because  the  practice 
is  never  with  still  or  dead  subjects,  but  they  change  in 


WEALTH.  97 

your  bands.  You  think  farm  buildings  and  broad  acres 
a  solid  property  :  but  its  value  is  flowing  like  water.  It 
requires  as  much  watching  as  if  you  were  decanting  wine 
from  a  cask.  The  farmer  knows  what  to  do  with  it,  stops 
every  leak,  turns  all  the  streamlets  to  one  reservoir,  and 
decants  wine ;  but  a  blunderhead  comes  out  of  Cornhill, 
tries  his  hand,  and  it  all  leaks  away.  So  is  it  with  gran- 
ite streets,  or  timber  townships,  as  with  fruit  or  flowers. 
Nor  is  any  investment  so  permanent,  that  it  can  be  al- 
lowed to  remain  without  incessant  watching,  as  the  his- 
tory of  each  attempt  to  lock  up  an  inheritance  through 
two  generations  for  an  unborn  inheritor  may  show. 

When  Mr.  Cockayne  takes  a  cottage  in  the  country, 
and  will  keep  his  cow,  he  thinks  a  cow  is  a  creature  that 
is  fed  on  hay,  and  gives  a  pail  of  milk  twice  a  day.  But 
the  cow  that  he  buys  gives  milk  for  three  months  ;  then 
her  bag  dries  up.  What  to  do  with  a  dry  cow  ?  who  will 
buy  her  ?  Perhaps  he  bought  also  a  yoke  of  oxen  to  do 
his  work;  but  they  get  blown  and  lame.  What  to  do 
with  blown  and  lame  oxen  ?  The  farmer  fats  his  after 
the  spring  work  is  done,  and  kills  them  in  the  fall.  But 
how  can  Cockayne,  who  has"  no  pastures,  and  leaves  his 
cottage  daily  in  the  cars,  at  business  hours,  be  pothered 
with  fatting  and  killing  oxen  ?  He  plants  trees ;  but 
there  must  be  crops,  to  keep  the  trees  in  ploughed  land. 
What  shall  be  the  crops  ?  He  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  trees,  but  will  have  grass.  After  a  year  or  two,  the 
grass  must  be  turned  up  and  ploughed :  now  what  crops  ? 
Credulous  Cockayne  ! 

3.  Help  comes  in  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  the 
rule  of  Impera  parendo.  The  rule  is  not  to  dictate,  nor 
5  o 


98  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

to  iusist  on  carrying  out  each  of  your  schemes  by  igno- 
rant wilfulness,  but  to  learn  practically  the  secret  spoken 
from  all  nature,  that  things  themselves  refuse  to  be  mis- 
managed, and  will  show  to  the  watchful  their  own  law. 
Nobody  need  stir  hand  or  foot.  The  custom  of  the  coun- 
try will  do  it  all.  I  know  not  how  to  build  or  to  plant ; 
neither  how  to  buy  wood,  nor  what  to  do  with  the  house- 
lot,  the  field,  or  the  wood-lot,  when  bought.  Never  fear ; 
it  is  all  settled  how  it  shall  be,  long  beforehand,  in  the 
custom  of  the  country,  whether  to  sand,  or  whether  to 
clay  it,  when  to  plough,  and  how  to  dress,  whether  to 
grass,  or  to  corn ;  and  you  cannot  help  or  hinder  it. 
Nature  has  her  own  best  mode  of  doing  each  thing,  and 
she  has  somewhere  told  it  plainly,  if  we  will  keep  our 
eyes  and  ears^opeu.  If  not,  she  will  not  be  slow  in  un- 
deceiving us,  when  we  prefer  our  own  way  to  hers.  How 
often  we  must  remember  the  art  of  the  surgeon,  which,  in 
replacing  the  broken  bone,  contents  itself  with  releasing 
the  parts  from  false  position ;  they  fly  into  place  by  the 
action  of  the  muscles.  On  this  art  of  nature  all  our  arts 
rely. 

Of  the  two  eminent  engineers  in  the  recent  construc- 
tion of  railways  in  England,  Mr.  Brunei  went  straight 
from  terminus  to  terminus,  through  mountains,  over 
streams,  crossing  highways,  cutting  ducal  estates  in.  two, 
and  shooting  througli  this  man's  cellar,  and  that  man's 
attic  window,  and  so  arriving  at  his  end,  at  great  pleas- 
ure to  geometers,  but  with  cost  to  his  company.  Mr. 
Stephenson,  on  the  contrary,  believing  that  the  river 
knows  the  way,  followed  his  valley,  as  implicitly  as  our 
Western  Railroad  follows  the  Westfield  River,  and  turned 


WEALTH.  99 

out  to  be  the  safest  and  cheapest  engineer.  We  say  the 
cows  laid  out  Boston.  Well,  there  are  worse  surveyors. 
Every  pedestrian  in  our  pastures  has  frequent  occasion 
to  thank  the  cows  for  cutting  the  best  path  through  the 
thicket,  and  over  the  hills;  and  travellers  and  Indians 
know  the  value  of  a  buffalo-trail,  which  is  sure  to  be  the 
easiest  possible  pass  through  the  ridge. 

When  a  citizen,  fresh  from  Dock  Square,  or  Milk 
Street,  comes  out  and  buys  land  in  the  country,  his  first 
thought  is  to  a  fine  outlook  from  his  windows ;  his 
library  must  command  a  western  view :  a  sunset  every 
day  bathing  the  shoulder  of  Blue  Hills,  Wachusett,  and 
the  peaks  of  Monaduoc  and  Uncanoonuc.  What,  thirty 
acres,  and  all  this  magnificence  for  fifteen  hundred  dol- 
lars !  It  would  be  cheap  at  fifty  thousand.  He  proceeds 
at  once,  his  eyes  dim  with  tears  of  joy,  to  fix  the  spot 
for  his  corner-stone.  But  the  man  who  is  to  level  the 
ground  thinks  it  will  take  many  hundred  loads  of  gravel  to 
fill  the  hollow  to  the  road.  The  stone-mason  who  should 
build  the  well  thinks  he  shall  have  to  dig  forty  feet :  the 
baker  doubts  he  shall  never  like  to  drive  up  to  the  door : 
the  practical  neighbor  cavils  at  the  position  of  the  barn ; 
and  the  citizen  comes  to  know  that  his  predecessor  the 
farmer  built  the  house  in  the  right  spot  for  the  sun  and 
wind,  the  spring,  and  water-drainage,  and  the  conven- 
ience to  the  pasture,  the  garden,  the  field,  and  the  road. 
So  Dock  Square  yields  the  point,  and  things  have  their 
own  way.  Use  has  made  the  farmer  wise,  and  the  fool- 
ish citizen  learns  to  take  his  counsel.  From  step  to  step 
he  comes  at  last  to  surrender  at  discretion.  The  farmer 
affects  to  take  his  orders ;  but  the  citizen  says,  You  may 


100  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

ask  me  as  often  as  you  will,  and  in  what  ingenious  forms, 
for  an  opinion  concerning  the  mode  of  building  my  wall, 
or  sinking  my  well,  or  laying  out  my  acre,  but  the  ball 
will  rebound  to  you.  These  are  matters  on  which  I 
neither  know,  nor  need  to  know  anything.  These  are 
questions  which  you  and  not  I  shall  answer. 

Not  less,  within  doors,  a  system  settles  itself  para- 
mount and  tyrannical  over  master  and  mistress,  servant 
and  child,  cousin  and  acquaintance.  'T  is  in  vain  that 
genius  or  virtue  or  energy  of  character  strive  and  cry 
against  it.  This  is  fate.  And  't  is  very  well  that  the 
poor  husband  reads  in  a  book  of  a  new  way  of  living,  and 
resolves  to  adopt  it  at  home :  let  him  go  home  and  try  it, 
if  he  dare. 

4.  Another  point  of  economy  is  to  look  for  seed  of  the 
same  kind  as  you  sow  :  and  not  to  hope  to  buy  one  kind 
with  another  kind.  Friendship  buys  friendship ;  justice, 
justice;  military  merit,  military  success.  Good  hus- 
bandry finds  wife,  children,  and  household.  The  good 
merchant,  large  gains,  ships,  stocks,  and  money.  The 
good  poet,  fame,  and  literary  credit ;  but  not  either,  the 
other.  Yet  there  is  commonly  a  confusion  of  expecta- 
tions on  these  points.  Hotspur  lives  for  the  moment ; 
praises  himself  for  it ;  and  despises  Furlong,  that  he  does 
not.  Hotspur,  of  course,  is  poor ;  and  Furlong,  a  good 
provider.  The  old  circumstance  is,  that  Hotspur  thinks 
it  a  superiority  in  himself,  this  improvidence,  which  ought 
to  be  rewarded  with  Furlong's  lands. 

I  have  not  at  all  completed  my  design.  But  we  must 
not  leave  the  topic,  without  casting  one  glance  into  the 
interior  recesses.  It  is  a  doctrine  of  philosophy,  that 


WEALTH.  101 

man  is  a  being  of  degrees  ;  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world,  which  is  not  repeated  in  his  body  ;  his  body  being 
a  sort  of  miniature  or  summary  of  the  world :  then  that 
there  is  nothing  in  his  body,  which  is  not  repeated  as  in 
a  celestial  sphere  in  his  mind :  then,  there  is  nothing  in 
his  brain,  which  is  not  repeated  in  a  higher  sphere,  in  his 
moral  system. 

5.  Now  these  things  are  so  in  nature.  All  things 
ascend,  and  the  royal  rule  of  economy  is,  that  it  should 
ascend  also,  or,  whatever  we  do  must  have  a  higher  aim. 
Thus  it  is  a  maxim,  that  money  is  another  kind  of  blood, 
Pecunid  alter  sanguis :  or,  the  estate  of  a  man  is  only  a 
larger  kind  of  body,  and  admits  of  regimen  analogous 
to  his  bodily  circulations.  So  there  is  no  maxim  of  the 
merchant,  which  does  not  admit  of  an  extended  sense, 
e.  g.  "  The  best  use  of  money  is  to  pay  debts  "  ;  "  Every 
business  by  itself " ;  "  Best  time  is  present  time " ; 
"  The  right  investment  is  in  tools  of  your  trade  "  ;  and 
the  like.  The  counting-room  maxims  liberally  ex- 
pounded are  laws  of  the  Universe.  The  merchant's 
economy  is  a  coarse  symbol  of  the  soul's  economy.  It 
is,  to  spend  for  power,  and  not  for  pleasure.  It  is  to 
invest  income  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  take  up  particulars  into 
generals ;  days  into  integral  eras,  —  literary,  emotive, 
practical,  of  its  life,  and  still  to  ascend  in  its  investment. 
The  merchant  has  but  one  rule,  absorb  and  invest :  he  is 
to  be  capitalist :  the  scraps  and  filings  must  be  gathered 
back  into  the  crucible ;  the  gas  and  smoke  must  be 
burned,  and  earnings  must  not  go  to  increase  expense, 
'  but  to  capital  again.  Well,  the  man  must  be  capitalist. 
Will  he  spend  his  income,  or  will  he  invest  ?  His  body 


102  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE, 

and  every  organ  is  under  the  same  law.  His  body  is  a 
jar,  in  which  the  liquor  of  life  is  stored.  Will  he  spend 
for  pleasure  ?  The  way  to  ruin  is  short  and  facile. 
Will  he  not  spend,  hut  hoard  for  power?  It  passes 
through  the  sacred  fermentations,  by  that  law  of  Nature 
whereby  everything  climbs  to  higher  platforms,  and 
bodily  vigor  becomes  mental  and  moral  vigor.  The 
bread  he  eats  is  first  strength  and  animal  spirits;  it  be- 
comes, in  higher  laboratories,  imagery  and  thought;  and 
iu  still  higher  results,  courage  and  endurance.  This  is 
the  right  compound  interest;  this  is  capital  doubled, 
quadrupled,  centupled ;  man  raised  to  his  highest  power. 
The  true  thrift  is  always  to  spend  on  the  higher  plane ; 
to  invest  and  invest,  with  keener  avarice,  that  he  may 
spend  in  spiritual  creation,  and  not  in  augmenting  animal 
existence.  Nor  is  the  man  enriched,  in  repeating  the  old 
experiments  of  animal  sensation,  nor  unless,  through  new 
powers  and  ascending  pleasures,  he  knows  himself,  by 
the  actual  experience  of  higher  good,  to  be  already  ou 
the  way  to  the  highest. 


IV. 

CULTURE. 


CAN  rules  or  tutors  educate 

The  semigod  whom  we  await? 

He  must  be  musical, 

Tremulous,  impressional, 

Alive  to  gentle  influence 

Of  landscape  and  of  sky, 

And  tender  to  the  spirit-touch 

Of  man's  or  maiden's  eye  : 

But,  to  his  native  centre  fast, 

Shall  into  Future  fuse  the  Past, 

And  the  world's  flowing  fates  in  his  own  mould  recast. 


CULTURE. 


THE  word  of  ambitit  n  at  the  present  day  is  Culture. 
Whilst  all  the  world  is  in  Mirsuit  of  power,  and  of  wealth 
as  a  means  of  power,  cult  ire  corrects  the  theory  of  suc- 
cess. A  man  is  the  prisoner  of  his  power.  A  topical 
memory  makes  him  an  alma  ac;  a  talent  for  debate,  a 
disputant ;  skill  to  get  money  r&akes  him  a  miser,  that  is,  a 
beggar.  Culture  reduces  these  inflammations  by  invoking 
the  aid  of  other  powers  against  the  dominant  talent,  and 
by  appealing  to  the  rank  of  powers.  It  watches  success. 
For  performance,  Nature  has  no  mercy,  and  sacrifices  the 
performer  to  get  it  done  ;  makes  a  dropsy  or  a  tympany 
of  him.  If  she  wants  a  thumb,  she  makes  one  at  the  cost 
of  arms  and  legs,  and  any  excess  of  power  in  one  part  is 
usually  paid  for  at  once  by  some  defect  in  a  contiguous 
part. 

Our  efficiency  depends  so  much  on  our  concentration, 
that  Nature  usually  in  the  instances  where  a  marked  man 
is  sent  into  the  world,  overloads  him  with  bias,  sacrificing 
his  symmetry  to  his  working  power.  It  is  said  a  man 
can  write  but  one  book  ;  and  if  a  man  have  a  defect,  it  is 
apt  to  leave  its  impression  on  all  his  performances.  If 
she  creates  a  policeman  like  Fouche,  lie  is  made  up  of 
suspicions  and  of  plots  to  circumvent  them.  "  The  air," 


106  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

said  Fouche,  "  is  full  of  poniards."  The  physician  Sanc- 
torius  spent  his  life  in  a  pair  of  scales,  weighing  his  food. 
Lord  Coke  valued  Chaucer  highly,  because  the  Canon 
Yeman's  Tale  illustrates  the  statute  fifth  Hen.  IF.  Chap. 
4,  against  alchemy.  I  saw  a  man  wl»o  believed  the  prin- 
cipal mischiefs  in  the  English  state  were  derived  from  the 
devotion  to  musical  concerts.  A  freemason,  not  long 
since,  set  out  to  explain  to  this  country,  that  the  princi- 
pal cause  of  the  success  of  Gene-al  Washington  was,  the 
aid  he  derived  from  the  freema?  jns. 

But  worse  than  the  harpirg  on  one  string,  Nature 
has  secured  individualism,  by,, giving  the  private  person  a 
high  conceit  of  his  weigh',  in  the  system.  The  pest  of 
society  is  egotists.  There  are  dull  and  bright,  sacred  and 
profane,  coarse  and  fine  egotists.  'Tis  a  disease  that, 
like  influenza,  falls  on  all  constitutions.  In  the  distem- 
per known  to  physicians  as  chorea,  the  patient  sometimes 
turns  round,  and  continues  to  spin  slowly  on  one  spot. 
Is  egotism  a  metaphysical  variety  of  this  malady  ?  The 
man  runs  round  a  ring  formed  by  his  own  talent,  falls 
into  an  admiration  of  it,  and  loses  relation  to  the  world. 
It  is  a  tendency  in  all  minds.  One  of  its  annoying  forms 
is  a  craving  for  sympathy.  The  sufferers  parade  their 
miseries,  tear  the  lint  from  their  bruises,  reveal  their 
indictable  crimes,  that  you  may  pity  them.  They  like 
sickness,  because  physical  pain  will  extort  some  show  of 
interest  from  the  bystanders,  as  we  have  seen  children, 
who,  finding  themselves  of  no  account  when  grown  people 
come  in,  will  cough  till  they  choke,  to  draw  attention. 

This  distemper  is  the  scourge  of  talent,  —  of  artists, 
inventors,  and  philosophers.  Eminent  spiritualists  shall 


CULTURE.  107 

Lave  an  incapacity  of  putting  their  act  or  word  aloof  from 
them,  and  seeing  it  bravely  for  the  nothing  it  is.  Beware 
of  the  man  who  says,  "  I  am  on  the  eve  of  a  revelation." 
It  is  speedily  punished,  inasmuch  as  this  habit  invites 
men  to  humor  it,  and  by  treating  the  patient  tenderly,  to 
shut  him  up  in  a  narrower  selfism,  and  exclude  him  from 
the  great  world  of  God's  cheerful  fallible  men  and  women. 
Let  us  rather  be  insulted,  whilst  we  are  iusultable. 
Religious  literature  has  eminent  examples,  and  if  we  run 
over  our  private  list  of  poets,  critics,  philanthropists,  and 
philosophers,  we  shall  find  them  infected  with  this  dropsy 
and  elephantiasis,  which  we  ought  to  have  tapped. 

This  goitre  of  egotism  is  so  frequent  among  notable 
persons,  that  we  must  infer  some  strong  necessity  in  na- 
ture which  it  subserves ;  such  as  we  see  in  the  sexual 
attraction.  The  preservation  of  the  species  was  a  point 
of  such  necessity,  that  Nature  has  secured  it  at  all  haz- 
ards by  immensely  overloading  the  passion,  at  the  risk  of 
perpetual  crime  and  disorder.  So  egotism  has  its  root  in 
the  cardinal  necessity  by  which  each  individual  persists  to 
be  what  he  is. 

This  individuality  is  not  only  not  inconsistent  with  cul- 
ture, but  is  the  basis  of  it.  Every  valuable  nature  is 
there  in  its  own  right,  and  the  student  we  speak  to  must 
have  a  mother- wit  invincible  by  his  culture,  which  uses  all 
books,  arts,  facilities,  and  elegances  of  intercourse,  but 
is  never  subdued  and  lost  in  them.  He  only  is  a  well- 
made  man  who  has  a  good  determination.  And  the  end 
of  culture  is  not  to  destroy  this,  God  forbid !  but  to  train 
away  all  impediment  and  mixture,  and  leave  nothing  but 
pure  power.  Our  student  must  have  a  style  and  determi- 


108  CONDUCT   OF    LIFE. 

nation,  and  be  a  master  in  his  own  specialty.  But,  having 
this,  he  must  put  it  behind  him.  He  must  have  a  cath- 
olicity, a  power  to  see  with  a  free  and  disengaged  look 
every  object.  Yet  is  this  private  interest  and  self  so 
overcharged,  that,  if  a  man  seeks  a  companion  who  can 
look  at  objects  for  their  own  sake,  and  without  affection 
or  self-reference,  he  will  find  the  fewest  who  will  give  him 
that  satisfaction;  whilst  most  men  are  afflicted  with  a 
coldness,  an  incuriosity,  as  soon  as  any  object  does  not 
connect  with  their  self-love.  Though  they  talk  of  the 
object  before  them,  they  are  thinking  of  themselves,  and 
their  vanity  is  laying  little  traps  for  your  admiration. 

But  after  a  man  has  discovered  that  there  are  limits  to 
the  interest  which  his  private  history  has  for  mankind, 
he  still  converses  with  his  family,  or  a  few  companions, — 
perhaps  with  half  a  dozen  personalities  that  are  famous 
in  his  neighborhood.  In  Boston,  the  question  of  life  is 
the  names  of  some  eight  or  ten  men.  Have  you  seen 
Mr.  Allston,  Doctor  Channing,  Mr.  Adams,  Mr.  Webster, 
Mr.  Greenough  ?  Have  you  heard  Everett,  Garrison, 
Father  Taylor,  Theodore  Parker  ?  Have  you  talked  with 
Messieurs  Turbinewheel,  Summitlevel,  and  Lacofrupees  ? 
Then  you  may  as  well  die.  In  New  York,  the  question 
is  of  some  other  eight,  or  ten,  or  twenty.  Have  you  seen 
a  few  lawyers,  merchants,  and  brokers,  two  or  three 
scholars,  two  or  three  capitalists,  two  or  three  editors  of 
newspapers  ?  New  York  is  a  sucked  orange.  All  con- 
versation is  at  an  end,  when  we  have  discharged  our- 
selves of  a  dozen  personalities,  domestic  or  imported, 
which  make  up  our  American  existence.  Nor  do  we  ex- 
pect anybody  to  be  other  than  a  faint  copy  of  these 
heroes. 


CULTURE.  109 

Life  is  very  narrow.  Bring  any  club  or  company  of 
intelligent  men  together  again  after  ten  years,  and  if  the 
presence  of  some  penetrating  and  calming  genius  could 
dispose  them  to  frankness,  what  a  confession  of  insani- 
ties would  come  up  !  The  "  causes  "  to  which  we  have 
sacrificed,  Tariff  or  Democracy,  Whigism  or  Abolition, 
Temperance  or  Socialism,  would  show  like  roots  of  bit- 
terness and  dragons  of  wrath ;  and  our  talents  are  as 
mischievous  as  if  each  had  been  seized  upon  by  some 
bird  of  prey,  which  had  whisked  him  away  from  fortune, 
from  truth,  from  the  dear  society  of  the  poets,  some  zeal, 
some  bias,  and  only  when  he  was  now  gray  and  nerve- 
less, was  it  relaxing  its  claws,  and  he  awaking  to  sober 
perceptions. 

Culture  is  the  suggestion  from  certain  best  thoughts, 
that  a  man  has  a  range  of  affinities,  through  which  he 
can  modulate  the  violence  of  any  master-tones  that  have 
a  droning  preponderance  in  his  scale,  and  succor  him 
against  himself.  Culture  redresses  his  balance,  puts  him 
among  his  equals  and  superiors,  revives  the  delicious 
sense  of  sympathy,  and  warns  him  of  the  dangers  of  soli- 
tude and  repulsion. 

'T  is  not  a  compliment  but  a  disparagement  to  consult 
a  man  only  on  horses,  or  on  steam,  or  on  theatres,  or  on 
eating,  or  on  books,  and,  whenever  he  appears,  consider- 
ately to  turn  the  conversation  to  the  bantling  he  is  known 
to  fondle.  In  the  Norse  heaven  of  our  forefathers, 
Thor's  house  had  five»hundred  and  forty  floors;  and 
man's  house  has  five  hundred  and  forty  floors.  His  ex- 
ceRence  is  facility  of  adaptation  and  of  transition  through 
many  related  points,  to  wide  contrasts  and  extremes. 


110  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Culture  kills  his  exaggeration,  his  conceit  of  his  village 
or  his  city.  We  must  leave  our  pets  at  home,  when  we 
go  into  the  street,  and  meet  men  on  broad  grounds  of 
good  meaning  and  good  sense.  No  performance  is  worth 
loss  of  geniality.  'T  is  a  cruel  price  we  pay  for  certain 
fancy  goods  called  fine  arts  and  philosophy.  In  the 
Norse  legend,  Allfadir  did  not  get  a  drink  of  Mimir's 
spring  (the  fountain  of  wisdom),  until  he  left  his  eye  in 
pledge.  And  here  is  a  pedant  that  cannot  unfold  his 
wrinkles,  nor  conceal  his  wrath  at  interruption  by  the 
best,  if  their  conversation  do  not  fit  his  impertinency, 
• —  here  is  he  to  afflict  us  with  his  personalities.  'T  is 
incident  to  scholars,  that  each  of  them  fancies  he  is 
pointedly  odious  in  his  community.  Draw  him  out  of 
this  limbo  of  irritability.  Cleanse  with  healthy  blood  his 
parchment  skin.  You  restore  to  him  his  eyes  which  he 
left  in  pledge  at  Mimir's  spring.  If  you  are  the  victim 
of  your  doing,  who  cares  what  you  do  ?  We  can  spare 
your  opera,  your  gazetteer,  your  chemic  analysis,  your 
history,  your  syllogisms.  Your  man  of  genius  pays 
dearly  for  his  distinction.  His  head  runs  up  into  a  spire, 
and  instead  of  a  healthy  man,  merry  and  wise,  he  is  some 
mad  dominie.  Nature  is  reckless  of  the  individual. 
When  she  has  points  to  carry,  she  carries  them.  To 
wade  in  marshes  and  sea-margins  is  the  destiny  of  certain 
birds,  and  they  are  so  accurately  made  for  this,  that  they 
are  imprisoned  in  those  places.  Each  animal  out  of  its 
habitat  would  starve.  To  the  ]Hiysician,  each  man,  each 
•woman,  is  an  amplification  of  one  organ.  A  soldier,  a 
locksmith,  a  bank-clerk,  and  a  dancer  could  not  exchange 
functions.  And  Uins  we  are  victims  of  adaptation. 


CULTURE.  Ill 

The  antidotes  against  this  organic  egotism  are,  the 
range  and  variety  of  attractions,  as  gained  by  acquaint- 
ance with  the  world,  with  men  of  merit,  with  classes  of 
society,  with  travel,  with  eminent  persons,  and  with  the 
high  resources  of  philosophy,  art,  and  religion:  books, 
travel,  society,  solitude. 

The  hardiest  sceptic  who  has  seen  a  horse  broken,  a 
pointer  trained,  or  who  has  visited  a  menagerie,  or  the 
exhibition  of  the  Industrious  Fleas,  will  not  deny  the 
validity  of  education.  "  A  boy,"  says  Plato,  "  is  the 
most  vicious  of  all  wild  beasts  "  ;  and,  in  the  same  spirit, 
the  old  English  poet  Gascoigne  says,  "  A  boy  is  better 
unborn  than  untaught."  The  city  breeds  one  kind  of 
speech  and  manners  ;  the  back  country,  a  different  style ; 
the  sea,  another ;  the  army,  a  fourth.  We  know  that  an 
army  which  can  be  confided  in  may  be  formed  by  disci- 
pline ;  that  by  systematic  discipline  all  men  may  be  made 
heroes :  Marshal  Lannes  said  to  a  French  officer,  "  Know, 
Colonel,  that  none  but  a  poltroon  will  boast  that  he  never 
was  afraid."  A  great  part  of  courage  is  the  courage  of 
having  done  the  thing  before.  And,  in  all  human  action, 
those  faculties  will  be  strong  which  are  used.  Robert 
Owen  said,  "  Give  me  a  tiger  and  I  will  educate  him." 
'T  is  inhuman  to  want  faith  in  the  power  of  education, 
since  to  meliorate,  is  the  law  of  nature ;  and  men  are 
valued  precisely  as  they  exert  onward  or  meliorating 
force.  On  the  other  hand,  poltroonery  is  the  acknowl- 
edging a  fault  to  be  incurable. 

Incapacity  of  melioration  is  the  only  mortal  distemper. 
There  are  people  who  can  never  understand  a  trope,  r>* 
any  second  or  expanded  sense  given  to  your  words,  of 


112  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

any  humor;  but  remain  literalists,  after  hearing  the 
music,  and  poetry,  and  rhetoric,  and  wit,  of  seventy  or 
eighty  years.  They  are  past  the  help  of  surgeon  or 
clergy.  But  even  these  can  understand  pitchforks  and 
the  cry  of  Eire !  and  I  have  noticed  in  some  of  this  class 
a  marked  dislike  of  earthquakes. 

Let  us  make  our  education  brave  and  preventive.  Poli- 
tics is  an  after-work,  a  poor  patching.  We  are  always  a 
little  late.  The  evil  is  done,  the  law  is  passed,  and  we 
begin  the  uphill  agitation  for  repeal  of  that  of  which  we 
ought  to  have  prevented  the  enacting.  "We  shall  one  day 
learn  to  supersede  politics  by  education.  What  we  call 
our  root-and-branch  reforms  of  slavery,  war,  gambling, 
intemperance,  is  only  medicating  the  symptoms.  We 
must  begin  higher  up,  namely,  in  Education. 

Our  arts  and  tools  give  to  him  who  can  handle  them 
much  the  same  advantage  over  the  novice,  as  if  you 
extended  his  life  ten,  fifty,  or  a  hundred  years.  And  I 
think  it  the  part  of  good  sense  to  provide  every  fine  soul 
with  such  culture,  that  it  shall  not,  at  thirty  or  forty 
years,  have  to  say,  "  This  which  I  might  do  is  made 
hopeless  through  my  want  of  weapons." 

But  it  is  conceded  that  much  of  our  training  fails  of  ef- 
fect ;  that  all  success  is  hazardous  and  rare ;  that  a  large 
part  of  our  cost  and  pains  is  thrown  away.  Nature  takes 
the  matter  into  her  own  hands,  and,  though  we  must  not 
omit  any  jot  of  our  system,  we  can  seldom  be  sure  that 
it  has  availed  much,  or  that  as  much  good  would  not 
have  accrued  from  a  different  system. 

Books,  as  containing  the  finest  records  of  human  wit, 
must  always  enter  into  our  notion  of  culture.  The  best 


CULTURE.  113 

that  ever  existed,  Pericles,  Plato,  Julius  Caesar, 
Shakespeare,  Goethe,  Milton,  were  well-read,  universally 
educated  men,  and  quite  too  wise  to  undervalue  letters. 
Their  opinion  has  weight,  because  they  had  means  of 
knowing  the  opposite  opinion.  We  look  that  a  great 
man  should  be  a  good  reader,  or,  in  proportion  to  the 
spontaneous  power,  should  be  the  assimilating  power. 
Good  criticism  is  very  rare,  and  always  precious.  I  am 
always  happy  to  meet  persons  who  perceive  the  transcend- 
ent superiority  of  Shakespeare  over  all  other  writers.  I 
like  people  who  like  Plato.  Because  this  love  does  not 
consist  with  self-conceit. 

But  books  are  good  only  as  far  as  a  boy  is  ready  for 
them.  He  sometimes  gets  ready  very  slowly.  You  send 
your  child  to  the  schoolmaster,  but  't  is  the  school-boys 
who  educate  him.  You  send  him  to  the  Latin  class,  but 
much  of  his  tuition  comes,  on  his  way  to  school,  from  the 
shop-windows.  You  like  the  strict  rules  and  the  long 
terms ;  and  he  finds  his  best  leading  in  a  by-way  of  his 
own,  and  refuses  any  companions  but  of  his  choosing. 
He  hates  the  grammar  and  Gradus,  and  loves  guns,  fish- 
ing-rods, horses,  and  boats.  Well,  the  boy  is  right ;  and 
you  are  not  fit  to  direct  his  bringing  up,  if  your  theory 
leaves  out  his  gymnastic  training.  Archery,  cricket,  gun 
and  fishing-rod,  horse  and  boat,  are  all  educators,  liberal- 
izers ;  and  so  are  dancing,  dress,  and  the  street  talk ;  and 
—  provided  only  the  boy  has  resources,  and  is  of  a  noble 
and  ingenuous  strain  —  these  will  not  serve  him  less  than 
the  books.  He  learns  chess,  whist,  dancing,  and  theatri- 
cals. The  father  observes  that  another  boy  has  learned 
algebra  and  geometry  in  the  same  time.  But  the  first 


114  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

boy  has  acquired  much  more  than  these  poor  games  along 
with  them.  He  is  infatuated  for  weeks  with  wliist  and 
chess  ;  but  presently  will  find  out,  as  you  did,  that  when 
he  rises  from  the  game  too  long  played,  he  is  vacant  and 
forlorn,  and  despises  himself.  Thenceforward  it  takes 
place  with  other  things,  and  has  its  due  weight  in  his  ex- 
perience. These  minor  skills  and  accomplishments,  for 
example,  dancing,  are  tickets  of  admission  to  the  dress- 
circle  of  mankind,  and  the  being  master  of  them  enables 
the  youth  to  judge  intelligently  of  much,  on  which,  other- 
wise, he  would  give  a  pedantic  squint.  Landor  said,  "  I 
have  suffered  more  from  my  bad  dancing,  than  from  all 
the  misfortunes  and  miseries  of  my  life  put  together." 
Provided  always  the  boy  is  teachable  (for  wre  are  not  pro- 
posing to  make  a  statue  out  of  punk),  foot-ball,  cricket, 
archery,  swimming,  skating,  climbing,  fencing,  riding,  are 
lessons  in  the  art  of  power,  which  it  is  his  main  business 
to  learn ;  —  riding,  specially,  of  which  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury  said,  "A  good  rider  on  a  good  horse  is  as  much 
above  himself  and  others  as  the  world  can  make  him." 
Besides,  the  gun,  fishing  rod,  boat,  and  horse  constitute, 
among  all  who  use  them,  secret  freemasonries.  They  are 
as  if  they  belonged  to  one  club. 

There  is  also  a  negative  value  in  these  arts.  Their 
chief  use  to  the  youth  is,  not  amusement,  but  to  be 
known  for  what  they  are,  and  not  to  remain  to  him  occa- 
sions of  heartburn.  We  are  full  of  superstitions.  Each 
class  fixes  its  eyes  on  the  advantages  it  has  not ;  the 
refined,  on  rude  strength,  the  democrat,  on  birth  and 
breeding.  One  of  the  benefits  of  a  college  education  is, 
to  show  the  boy  its  little  avail.  1  knew  a  leading  man 


CULTURE.  115 

in  a  leading  city,  who,  having  set  his  heart  on  an  educa- 
tion at  the  university,  and  missed  it,  could  never  quite 
feel  himself  the  equal  of  his  own  brothers  who  had  gone 
thither.  His  easy  superiority  to  multitudes  of  profes- 
sional men  could  never  quite  countervail  to  him  this 
imaginary  defect.  Balls,  riding,  wine-parties,  and  bill- 
iards pass  to  a  poor  boy  for  something  fine  and  romantic, 
which  they  are  not ;  and  a  free  admission  to  them  on  an 
equal  footing,  if  it  were  possible,  only  once  or  twice, 
would  be  worth  ten  times  its  cost,  by  undeceiving  them. 
I  am  not  much  an  advocate  for  travelling,  and  I  ob- 
serve that  men  run  away  to  other  countries,  because 
they  are  not  good  in  their  own,  and  run  back  to  their 
own,  because  they  pass  for  nothing  in  the  new  places. 
Tor  the  most  part,  only  the  light  characters  travel.  Who 
are  you  that  have  no  task  to  keep  you  at  home  ?  1  have 
been  quoted  as  saying  captious  things  about  travel ;  but 
I  mean  to  do  justice.  I  think  there  is  a  restlessness  in 
our  people,  which  argues  w^nt  of  character.  All  edu- 
cated Americans,  first  or  last,  go  to  Europe  ;  perhaps  be- 
cause it  is  their  mental  home,  as  the  invalid  habits  of 
this  country  might  suggest.  An  eminent  teacher  of  girls 
said,  "  The  idea  of  a  girl's  education  is,  whatever  qualifies 
her  for  going  to  Europe."  Can  we  never  extract  this 
tapeworm  of  Europe  from  the  brain  of  our  countrymen  ? 
One  sees  very  well  what  their  fate  must  be.  He  that 
does  not  fill  a  place  at  home,  cannot  abroad.  He  only 
goes  there  to  hide  his  insignificance  in  a  larger  crowd. 
You  do  not  think  you  will  find  anything  there  which 
you  have  not  seen  at  home  ?  The  stuff  of  all  countries 
is  just  the  same.  Do  you  suppose  there  is  any  country 


116  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

where  they  do  not  scald  milk-pans,  and  swaddle  the  in- 
fants, and  burn  the  brushwood,  and  broil  the  fish  ?  What 
is  true  anywhere  is  true  everywhere.  And  let  him  go 
where  he  will,  he  can  only  find  so  much  beauty  or  worth 
as  he  carries. 

Of  course,  for  some  men,  travel  may  be  useful.  Nat- 
uralists, discoverers,  and  sailors  are  born.  Some  men 
are  made  for  couriers,  exchangers,  envoys,  missionaries, 
bearers  of  despatches,  as  others  are  for  farmers  and 
workingmen.  And  if  the  man  is  of  a  light  and  social 
turn,  and  Nature  has  aimed  to  make  a  legged  and  winged 
creature,  framed  for  locomotion,  we  must  follow  her 
hint,  and  furnish  him  with  that  breeding  which  gives 
currency,  as  sedulously  as  with  that  which  gives  worth. 
But  let  us  not  be  pedantic,  but  allow  to  travel  its  full 
effect.  The  boy  grown  up  on  the  farm,  which  he  lias 
never  left,  is  said  in  the  country  to  have  had  no  chance, 
and  boys  and  men  of  that  condition  look  upon  work  on 
a  railroad,  or  drudgery  in  a  city,  as  opportunity.  Poor 
country  boys  of  Vermont  and  Connecticut  formerly  owed 
what  knowledge  they  had  to  their  peddling  trips  to  the 
Southern  States.  California  and  the  Pacific  Coast  is  now 
the  university  of  this  class,  as  Virginia  was  in  old  times. 
"  To  have  some  chance  "  is  their  word.  And  the  phrase 
"to  know  the  world,"  or  to  travel,  is  synonymous  with 
all  men's  ideas  of  advantage  and  superiority.  No  doubt, 
to  a  man  of  sense,  travel  offers  advantages.  As  many 
languages  as  he  has,  as  many  friends,  as  many  arts  and 
trades,  so  many  times  is  he  a  man.  A  foreign  country  is  a 
point  of  comparison,  wherefrom  to  judge  his  own.  One  use 
of  travel  is,  to  recommend  the  books  and  works  of  home, 


CULTURE.  117 

—  for  we  go  to  Europe  to  be  Americanized ;  and  an- 
other, to  find  men.  For,  as  Nature  has  put  fruits  apart 
in  latitudes,  a  new  fruit  in  every  degree,  so  knowledge 
and  fine  moral  quality  she  lodges  in  distant  men.  And 
thus,  of  the  six  or  seven  teachers  whom  each  man  wants 
among  his  contemporaries,  it  often  happens  that  one  or 
two  of  them  live  on  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

Moreover,  there  is  in  every  constitution  a  certain  sol- 
stice, when  the  stars  stand  still  in  our  inward  firmament, 
and  when  there  is  required  some  foreign  force,  some 
diversion  or  alterative  to  prevent  stagnation.  And,  as  a 
medical  remedy,  travel  seems  one  of  the  best.  Just  as  a 
man  witnessing  the  admirable  effect  of  ether  to  lull  pain, 
and  meditating  on  the  contingencies  of  wounds,  cancers, 
lockjaws,  rejoices  in  Dr.  Jackson's  benign  discovery,  so 
a  man  who  looks  at  Paris,  at  Naples,  or  at  London, 
says :  "  If  I  should  be  driven  from  my  own  home,  here, 
at  least,  my  thoughts  can  be  consoled  by  the  most  prodi- 
gal amusement  and  occupation  which  the  human  race  in 
ages  could  contrive  and  accumulate." 

Akin  to  the  benefit  of  foreign  travel,  the  aesthetic 
value  of  railroads  is  to  unite  the  advantages  of  town  and 
country  life,  neither  of  which  we  can  spare.  A  man 
should  live  in  or  near  a  large  town,  because,  let  his  own 
genius  be  what  it  may,  it  will  repel  quite  as  much  of 
agreeable  and  valuable  talent  as  it  draws,  and,  in  a  city, 
the  total  attraction  of  all  the  citizens  is  sure  to  conquer, 
first  or  last,  every  repulsion,  and  drag  the  most  improba- 
ble hermit  within  its  walls  some  day  in  the  year.  In 
town,  he  can  find  the  swimming-school,  the  gymnasium, 
the  dancing-master,  the  shooting-gallery,  opera,  theatre, 


118  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

and  panorama;  the  chemist's  shop,  the  museum  of  natu- 
ral history  ;  the  gallery  of  fine  arts ;  the  national  orators, 
in  their  turn ;  foreign  travellers,  the  libraries,  and  his 
club.  In  the  country,  he  can  find  solitude  and  reading, 
manly  labor,  cheap  living,  and  his  old  shoes ;  moors  for 
game,  hills  for  geology,  and  groves  for  devotion.  Au- 
brey writes :  "  I  have  heard  Thomas  Hobbes  say,  that, 
in  the  Earl  of  Devon's  house,  in  Derbyshire,  there  was  a 
good  library  and  books  enough  for  him,  and  his  lordship 
stored  the  library  with  what  books  he  thought  fit  to  be 
bought.  But  the  want  of  good  conversation  was  a  very 
great  inconvenience,  and,  though  he  conceived  he  could 
order  his  thinking  as  well  as  another,  yet  he  found  a 
great  defect.  In  the  country,  in  long  time,  for  want  of 
good  conversation,  one's  understanding  and  invention 
contract  a  moss  on  them,  like  an  old  paling  in  an 
orchard." 

Cities  give  us  collision.  'T  is  said,  London  and  New 
York  take  the  nonsense  out  of  a  man.  A  great  part 
of  our  education  is  sympathetic  and  social.  Boys  and 
girls  who  have  been  brought  up  with  well-informed  and 
superior  people  show  in  their  manners  an  inestimable 
grace.  Fuller  says,  that  "  William,  Earl  of  Nassau,  won 
a  subject  from  the  King  of  Spain,  every  time  he  put 
off  his  hat."  You  cannot  have  one  well-bred  man,  with- 
out a  whole  society  of  such.  They  keep  each  other  up 
to  any  high  point.  Especially  women  ;  —  it  requires  a 
great  many  cultivated  women,  —  saloons  of  bright,  ele- 
gant, reading  women,  accustomed  to  ease  and  refine- 
ment, to  spectacles,  pictures,  sculpture,  poetry,  and  to 
elegant  society, — in  order  that  you  should  have  one 


CULTURE.  119 

Madame  de  Stae'l.  The  head  of  a  commercial  house,  or 
a  leading  lawyer  or  politician,  is  brought  into  daily  con- 
tact with  troops  of  men  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
and  those  too  the  driving-wheels,  the  business  men  of 
each  section,  and  one  can  hardly  suggest  for  an  appre- 
hensive man  a  more  searching  culture.  Besides,  we 
must  remember  the  high  social  possibilities  of  a  million 
of  men.  The  best  bribe  which  London  offers  to-day  to 
the  imagination,  is,  that,  in  such  a  vast  variety  of  people 
and  conditions,  one  can  believe  there  is  room  for  per- 
sons of  romantic  character  to  exist,  and  that  the  poet, 
the  mystic,  and  the  hero  may  hope  to  confront  their 
counterparts. 

I  wish  cities  could  teach  their  best  lesson,  —  of  quiet 
manners.  It  is  the  foible  especially  of  American  youth, 
—  pretension.  The  mark  of  the  man  of  the  world  is 
absence  of  pretension.  He  does  not  make  a  speech ;  he 
takes  a  low  business-tone,  avoids  all  brag,  is  nobody, 
dresses  plainly,  promises  not  at  all,  performs  much, 
speaks  in  monosyllables,  hugs  his  fact.  lie  calls  his 
employment  by  its  lowest  name,  and  so  takes  from  evil 
tongues  their  sharpest  weapon.  His  conversation  clings 
to  the  weather  and  the  news,  yet  he  allows  himself  to  be 
surprised  into  thought,  and  the  unlocking  of  his  learn- 
ing and  philosophy.  How  the  imagination  is  piqued  by 
anecdotes  of  some  great  man  passing  incognito,  as  a  king 
in  gray  clothes,  —  of  Napoleon  affecting  a  plain  suit  at 
his  glittering  levee ;  of  Burns,  or  Scott,  or  Beethoven, 
or  Wellington,  or  Goethe,  or  any  container  of  transcen- 
dent  power,  passing  for  nobody  ;  of  Epaminondas,  "v-bo 
never  says  anything,  but  will  listen  eternally " ;  of 


120  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Goethe,  who  preferred  trifling  subjects  and  common  ex- 
pressions in  intercourse  with  strangers,  worse  rather 
than  better  clothes,  and  to  appear  a  little  more  ca- 
pricious than  he  was.  There  are  advantages  in  the  old 
hat  and  box-coat.  I  have  heard,  that,  throughout  this 
country,  a  certain  respect  is  paid  to  good  broadcloth ; 
but  dress  makes  a  little  restraint :  men  will  not  commit 
themselves.  But  the  box-coat  is  like  wine ;  it  unlocks 
the  tongue  and  men  say  what  they  think.  An  old  poet 
says, 

"  Go  far  and  go  sparing, 
For  you  '11  find  it  certain, 
The  poorer  and  the  baser  you  appear, 
The  more  you  '11  look  through  still."  * 

Not  much  otherwise  Milnes  writes,  in  the  "  Lay  of  the 
Humble," 

"  To  me  men  are  for  what  they  are, 
They  wear  no  masks  with  me." 

'T  is  odd  that  our  people  should  have,  —  not  water  on 
the  brain,  —  but  a  little  gas  there.  A  shrewd  foreigner 
said  of  the  Americans,  that,  "  whatever  they  say  has  a 
little  the  air  of  a  speech."  Yet  one  of  the  traits  down  in 
the  books  as  distinguishing  the  Anglo-Saxon  is,  a  trick 
of  self-disparagement.  To  be  sure,  in  old,  dense  coun- 
tries, among  a  million  of  good  coats,  a  fine  coat  comes 
to  be  no  distinction,  and  you  find  humorists.  In  an 
English  party,  a  man  with  no  marked  manners  or  fea- 
tures, with  a  face  like  red  dough,  unexpectedly  discloses 

*  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Tamer  Tamed. 


CULTURE.  121 

wit,  learning,  a  wide  range  of  topics,  and  personal  famil- 
iarity with  good  men  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  until  you 
think  you  have  fallen  upon  some  illustrious  personage. 
Can  it  be  that  the  American  forest  has  refreshed  some 
weeds  of  old  Pictish  barbarism  just  ready  to  die  out,  — 
the  love  of  the  scarlet  feather,  of  beads,  and  tinsel  ?  The 
Italians  are  fond  of  red  clothes,  peacock  plumes,  and  em- 
broidery ;  and  I  remember  one  rainy  morning  in  the  city 
of  Palermo,  the  street  was  in  a  blaze  with  scarlet  umbrel- 
las. The  English  have  a  plain  taste.  The  equipages 
of  the  grandees  are  plain.  A  gorgeous  livery  indicates 
new  and  awkward  city  wealth.  Mr.  Pitt,  like  Mr.  Pym, 
thought  the  title  of  Mister  good  against  any  king  in 
Europe.  They  have  piqued  themselves  on  governing 
the  whole  world  in  the  poor,  plain,  dark  Committee- 
room  which  the  House  of  Commons  sat  in,  before  the 
fire. 

Whilst  we  want  cities  as  the  centres  where  the  best 
things  are  found,  cities  degrade  us  by  magnifying  trifles. 
The  countryman  finds  the  town  a  chop-house,  a  barber's 
shop.  He  has  lost  the  lines  of  grandeur  of  the  horizon, 
hills  and  plains,  and  with  them  sobriety  and  elevation. 
He  has  come  among  a  supple,  glib-tongued  tribe,  who 
live  for  show,  servile  to  public  opinion.  Life  is  dragged 
down  to  a  fracas  of  pitiful  cares  and  disasters.  You  say 
the  gods  ought  to  respect  a  life  whose  objects  are  their 
own  ;  but  in  cities  they  have  betrayed  you  to  a  cloud  of 
insignificant  annoyances : 

"  Mirmidons,  race  feconde, 
Mirmidons, 
Enfin  nous  commandons ; 


122  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

Jupiter  livre  le  monde 

Aux  mirmidons,  aux  mirmidons."  * 

'T  is  heavy  odds 

Against  the  gods, 

"When  they  will  match  with  myrmidons. 

We  spawning,  spawning  myrmidons, 

Our  turn  to-day  !  we  take  command, 

Jove  gives  the  globe  into  the  hand 

Of  myrmidons,  of  myrmidons. 

What  is  odious  but  noise,  and  people  who  scream  and 
bewail  ?  people  whose  vane  points  always  east,  who  live 
to  dine,  who  send  for  the  doctor,  who  coddle  themselves, 
who  toast  their  feet  on  the  register,  who  intrigue  to 
secure  a  padded  chair,  and  a  corner  out  of  the  draught. 
Suffer  them  once  to  begin  the  enumeration  of  their  in- 
firmities, and  the  sun  will  go  down  on  the  unfinished  tale. 
Let  these  trifles  put  us  out  of  conceit  with  petty  comforts. 
To  a  man  at  work,  the  frost  is  but  a  color :  the  ram,  the 
wind,  he  forgot  them  when  he  came  in.  Let  us  learn  to 
live  coarsely,  dress  plainly,  and  lie  hard.  The  least  habit 
of  dominion  over  the  palate  has  certain  good  effects  not 
easily  estimated.  Neither  will  we  be  driven  into  a  quid- 
dling  abstemiousness.  'T  is  a  superstition  to  insist  on  a 
special  diet.  All  is  made  at  last  of  the  same  chemical 
atoms. 

A  man  in  pursuit  of  greatness  feels  no  little  wants. 
How  can  you  mind  diet,  bed,  dress,  or  salutes  or  compli- 
ments, or  the  figure  you  make  in  company,  or  wealth,  or 
even  the  bringing  things  to  pass,  when  you  think  how 
paltry  are  the  machinery  and  the  workers  ?  Wordsworth 

*  Berangcr. 


CULTURE.  123 

was  praised  to  me,  in  Westmoreland,  for  having  afforded 
to  his  country  neighbors  ail  example  of  a  modest  house- 
hold where  comfort  and  culture  were  secured,  without 
display.  And  a  tender  boy  who  wears  his  rusty  cap  and 
outgrown  coat,  that  he  may  secure  the  coveted  place  in 
college,  and  the  right  in  the  library,  is  educated  to  some 
purpose.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  self-denial  and  manli- 
ness in  poor  and  middle-class  houses,  in  town  and  coun- 
try, that  has  not  got  into  literature,  and  never  will,  but 
that  keeps  the  earth  sweet;  that  saves  on  superfluities, 
and  spends  on  essentials ;  that  goes  rusty,  and  educates 
the  boy ;  that  sells  the  horse,  but  builds  the  school ; 
works  early  and  late,  takes  two  looms  in  the  factory,  three 
looms,  six  looms,  but  pays  off  the  mortgage  on  the  pater- 
nal farm,  and  then  goes  back  cheerfully  to  work  again. 

We  can  ill  spare  the  commanding  social  benefits  of 
cities ;  they  must  be  used ;  yet  cautiously,  and  haughtily, 
—  and  will  yield  their  best  values  to  him  who  best  can  do 
without  them.  Keep  the  town  for  occasions,  but  the  hab- 
its should  be  formed  to  retirement.  Solitude,  the  safe- 
guard of  mediocrity,  is  to  genius  the  stern  friend,  the 
cold,  obscure  shelter  where  moult  the  wings  which  will 
bear  it  farther  than  suns  and  stars.  He  who  should 
inspire  and  lead  his  race  must  be  defended  from  trav- 
elling with  the  souls  of  other  men,  from  living,  breath- 
ing, reading,  and  writing  in  the  daily,  time-worn  yoke 
of  their  opinions.  "  In  the  morning,  —  solitude,"  said 
Pythagoras  ;  that  Nature  may  speak  to  the  imagination, 
as  she  does  never  in  company,  and  that  her  favorite 
may  make  acquaintance  with  those  divine  strengths 
which  disclose  themselves  to  serious  and  abstracted 


124  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

thought.  'T  is  very  certain  that  Plato,  Plotinus,  Ar- 
chimedes, Hermes,  Newton,  Milton,  Wordsworth,  did 
not  live  in  a  crowd,  but  descended  into  it  from  time  to 
time  as  benefactors ;  and  the  wise  instructor  will  press 
this  point  of  securing  to  the  young  soul,  in  the  disposi- 
tion of  time  and  the  arrangements  of  living,  periods  and 
habits  of  solitude.  The  high  advantage  of  university  life 
is  often  the  mere  mechanical  one,  I  may  call  it,  of  a  sep- 
arate chamber  and  fire,  —  which  parents  will  allow  the 
boy  without  hesitation  at  Cambridge,  but  do  not  think 
needful  at  home.  We  say  solitude,  to  mark  the  character 
of  the  tone  of  thought ;  but  if  it  can  be  shared  between 
two  or  more  than  two,  it  is  happier,  and  not  less  noble. 
"  We  four,"  wrote  Neander  to  his  sacred  friends,  "  will 
enjoy  at  Halle  the  inward  blessedness  of  a  cioitas  Dei, 
whose  foundations  are  forever  friendship.  The  more  I 
know  you,  the  more  I  dissatisfy  and  must  dissatisfy  all 
my  wonted  companions.  Their  very  presence  stupefies 
me.  The  common  understanding  withdraws  itself  from 
the  one  centre  of  all  existence." 

Solitude  takes  off  the  pressure  of  present  importunities 
that  more  catholic  and  humane  relations  may  appear. 
The  saint  and  poet  seek  privacy  to  ends  the  most  public 
and  universal ;  and  it  is  the  secret  of  culture,  to  interest 
the  man  more  in  his  public  than  in  his  private  quality. 
Here  is  a  new  poem,  which  elicits  a  good  many  com- 
ments in  the  journals,  and  in  conversation.  From  these 
it  is  easy,  at  last,  to  eliminate  the  verdict  which  readers 
passed  upon  it;  and  that  is,  in  the  main,  unfavorable. 
The  poet,  as  a  craftsman,  is  only  interested  in  the  praise 
accorded  to  him,  and  not  in  the  censure,  though  it  be 


CULTURE.  125 

just.  And  the  poor  little  poet  hearkens  only  to  that, 
and  rejects  the  censure,  as  proving  incapacity  in  the 
critic.  But  the  poet  cultivated  becomes  a  stockholder 
in  both  companies,  —  say  Mr.  Curfew,  —  in  the  Curfew 
stock,  and  in  the  humanity  stock ;  and,  in  the  last,  exults 
as  much  in  the  demonstration  of  the  unsoundness  of  Cur- 
few, as  his  interest  in  the  former  gives  him  pleasure  in 
the  currency  of  Curfew.  For,  the  depreciation  of  his 
Curfew  stock  only  shows  the  immense  values  of  the  hu- 
manity stock.  As  soon  as  he  sides  with  his  critic  against 
himself,  with  joy,  he  is  a  cultivated  man. 

We  must  have  an  intellectual  quality  in  all  property 
and  in  all  action,  or  they  are  naught.  I  must  have  chil- 
dren, I  must  have  events,  I  must  have  a  social  state  and 
history,  or  my  thinking  and  speaking  want  body  or  basis. 
But  to  give  these  accessories  any  value,  I  must  know 
them  as  contingent  and  rather  showy  possessions,  which 
pass  for  more  to  the  people  than  to  me.  We  see  this  ab- 
straction in  scholars,  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but  what  a 
charm  it  adds  when  observed  in  practical  men.  Bona- 
parte, like  Caesar,  was  intellectual,  and  could  look  at 
every  object  for  itself,  without  affection.  Though  an 
egotist  a  V entrance,  he  could  criticise  a  play,  a  building, 
a  character,  on  universal  grounds,  and  give  a  just  opin- 
ion. A  man  known  to  us  only  as  a  celebrity  in  politics 
or  in  trade  gains  largely  in  our  esteem  if  we  discover  that 
he  has  some  intellectual  taste  or  skill ;  as  when  we  learn 
of  Lord  Fairfax,  the  Long  Parliament's  general,  his  pas- 
sion for  antiquarian  studies ;  or  of  the  French  regicide 
Carnot,  his  sublime  genius  in  mathematics  ;  or  of  a  liv- 
ing banker,  his  success  in  poetry ;  or  of  a  partisan  jour- 


126  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

nalist,  his  devotion  to  ornithology.  So,  if,  in  travelling 
in  the  dreary  wildernesses  of  Arkansas  or  Texas,  we 
should  observe  on  the  next  seat  a  man  reading  Horace, 
or  Martial,  or  Calderon,  we  should  wish  to  hug  him. 
In  callings  that  require  roughest  energy,  soldiers,  sea- 
captains,  and  civil  engineers  sometimes  betray  a  fine  in- 
sight, if  only  through  a  certain  gentleness  when  off  duty ; 
a  good-natured  admission  that  there  are  illusions,  and 
who  shall  say  that  he  is  not  their  sport  ?  We  only  vary 
the  phrase,  not  the  doctrine,  when  we  say  that  culture 
opens  the  sense  of  beauty.  A  man  is  a  beggar  who  only 
lives  to  the  useful,  and,  however  he  may  serve  as  a  pin 
or  rivet  in  the  social  machine,  cannot  be  said  to  have 
arrived  at  self-possession.  I  suffer  every  day  from  the 
want  of  perception  of  beauty  in  people.  They  do  not 
know  the  charm  with  which  all  moments  and  objects  can 
be  embellished,  the  charm  of  manners,  of  self-command, 
of  benevolence.  Repose  and  cheerfulness  are  the  badge 
of  the  gentleman,  —  repose  in  energy.  The  Greek  bat- 
tle-pieces are  calm ;  the  heroes,  in  whatever  violent  ac- 
tions engaged,  retain  a  serene  aspect ;  as  we  say  of  Ni- 
agara, that  it  falls  without  speed.  A  cheerful,  intelligent 
face  is  the  end  of  culture,  and  success  enough.  For  it 
indicates  the  purpose  of  Nature  and  wisdom  attained. 

When  our  higher  faculties  are  in  activity,  we  are  do- 
mesticated, and  awkwardness  and  discomfort  give  place 
to  natural  and  agreeable  movements.  It  is  noticed,  that 
the  consideration  of  the  great  periods  and  spaces  of  as- 
tronomy induces  a  dignity  of  mind,  and  an  indifference 
to  death.  The  influence  of  fine  scenery,  the  presence 
of  mountains,  appeases  our  irritations  and  elevates  our 


CULTURE.  1£7 

friendships.  Even  a  high  dome,  and  the  expansive  inte- 
rior of  a  cathedral,  have  a  sensible  effect  on  manners. 
I  have  heard  that  stiff  people  lose  something  of  their 
awkwardness  under  high  ceilings,  and  in  spacious  halls. 
I  think  sculpture  and  painting  have  an  effect  to  teach  us 
manners,  and  abolish  hurry. 

But,  over  all,  culture  must  reinforce  from  higher  influx 
the  empirical  skills  of  eloquence,  or  of  politics,  or  of 
trade,  and  the  useful  arts.  There  is  a  certain  loftiness 
of  thought  and  power  to  marshal  and  adjust  particulars, 
which  can  only  come  from  an  insight  of  their  whole  con- 
nection. The  orator  who  has  once  seen  tilings  in  their 
divine  order,  will  never  quite  lose  sight  of  this,  and  will 
come  to  affairs  as  from  a  higher  ground,  and,  though  he 
will  say  nothing  of  philosophy,  he  will  have  a  certain 
mastery  in  dealing  with  them,  and  an  incapableness  of 
being  dazzled  or  frighted,  which  will  distinguish  his  hand- 
ling from  that  of  attorneys  and  factors.  A  man  who 
stands  on  a  good  footing  with  the  heads  of  parties  at 
Washington,  reads  the  rumors  of  the  newspapers,  and 
the  guesses  of  provincial  politicians,  with  a  key  to  the 
right  and  wrong  in  each  statement,  and  sees  well  enough 
where  all  this  will  end.  Archimedes  will  look  through 
your  Connecticut  machine,  at  a  glance,  and  judge  of  its 
fitness.  And  much  more,  a  wise  man  who  knows  not 
only  what  Plato,  but  what  Saint  John  can  show  him,  can 
easily  raise  the  affair  he  deals  with  to  a  certain  majesty. 
Plato  says  Pericles  owed  this  elevation  to  the  lessons  ot 
Anaxagoras.  Burke  descended  from  a  higher  sphere 
when  he  would  influence  human  affairs.  Franklin,  Ad> 
ains,  Jefferson,  Washington,  stood  on  a  fine  humanity, 


128  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

before  which  the  brawls  of  modern  senates  are  but  pot- 
house politics. 

But  there  are  higher  secrets  of  culture,  which  are  not 
for  the  apprentices,  but  for  proficients.  These  are  les- 
sons only  for  the  brave.  We  must  know  our  friends 
under  ugly  masks.  The  calamities  are  our  friends.  Ben 
Jouson  specifies  in  his  address  to  the  Muse :  — 

"  Get  him  the  time's  long  grudge,  the  court's  ill-will, 
And,  reconciled,  keep  him  suspected  still, 
Make  him  lose  all  his  friends,  and,  what  is  worse, 
Almost  all  ways  to  any  better  course ; 
"With  me  thou  leav'st  a  better  Muse  than  thee, 
And  which  thou  brought'st  me,  blessed  Poverty." 

We  wish  to  learn  philosophy  by  rote,  and  play  at  hero- 
ism. But  the  wiser  God  says,  Take  the  shame,  the 
poverty,  and  the  penal  solitude,  that  belong  to  truth- 
speaking.  Try  the  rough  water  as  well  as  the  smooth. 
Kough  water  can  teach  lessons  worth  knowing.  When 
the  state  is  unquiet,  personal  qualities  are  more  than  ever 
decisive.  Tear  not  a  revolution  which  will  constrain 
you  to  live  five  years  in  one.  Don't  be  so  tender  at  mak- 
ing an  enemy  now  and  then.  "Be  willing  to  go  to  Cov- 
entry sometimes,  and  let  the  populace  bestow  on  you 
their  coldest  contempts.  The  finished  man  of  the  world 
must  eat  of  every  apple  once.  He  must  hold  his  hatreds 
also  at  arm's  length,  and  not  remember  spite.  He  has 
neither  friends  nor  enemies,  but  values  men  only  as 
channels  of  power. 

He  who  aims  high  must  dread  an  easy  home  and  popu- 
lar manners.  Heaven  sometimes  hedges  a  rare  character 


CULTURE.  129 

about  with  ungainliuess  and  odium,  as  the  burr  that  pro- 
tects the  fruit.  If  t  Jere  is  any  great  and  good  thing  in 
store  for  you,  it  will  not  come  at  the  first  or  the  second 
call,  nor  in  the  shape  of  fashion,  ease,  and  city  drawing- 
rooms.  Popularity  is  for  dolls.  "  Steep  and  craggy,"  said 
Porphyry,  "  is  the  path  of  the  gods."  Open  your  Marcus 
Antoninus.  In  the  opinion  of  the  ancients,  he  was  the 
great  man  who  scorned  to  shine,  and  who  contested  the 
frowns  of  fortune.  They  preferred  the  noble  vessel  too 
late  for  the  tide,  contending  with  winds  and  waves,  dis- 
mantled and  unrigged,  to  her  companion  borne  into  har- 
bor with  colors  flying  and  guns  firing.  There  is  none  of 
the  social  goods  that  may  not  be  purchased  too  dear,  and 
mere  amiableness  must  not  take  rank  with  high  aims  and 
self-subsistency. 

Bettine  replies  to  Goethe's  mother,  who  chides  her  dis- 
regard of  dress,  "  If  I  cannot  do  as  I  have  a  mind,  in  our 
poor  Frankfort,  I  shall  not  carry  things  far."  And  the 
youth  must  rate  at  its  true  mark  the  inconceivable  levity 
of  local  opinion.  The  longer  we  live,  the  more  we  must 
endure  the  elementary  existence  of  men  and  women ;  and 
every  brave  heart  must  treat  society  as  a  child,  and  never 
allow  it  to  dictate. 

"  All  that  class  of  the  severe  and  restrictive  virtues," 
said  Burke,  "  are  almost  too  costly  for  humanity."  Who 
wishes  to  be  severe  ?  Who  wishes  to  resist  the  eminent 
and  polite,  in  behalf  of  the  poor,  and  low,  and  impolite  ? 
and  who  that  dares  do  it,  can  keep  his  temper  sweet,  his 
frolic  spirits?  The  high  virtues  are  not  debonair,  but 
have  their  redress  in  being  illustrious  at  last.  What 
forests  of  laurel  we  bring,  and  the  tears  of  mankind, 


130  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

to  those  who  stood  firm  against  the  opinion  of  their 
contemporaries!  The  measure  of  a  master  is  his  suc- 
cess in  bringing  all  men  round  to  his  opinion  twenty 
years  later. 

Let  me  say  here,  that  culture  cannot  begin  too  early. 
In  talking  with  scholars,  I  observe  that  they  lost  on  ruder 
companions  those  years  of  boyhood  which  alone  could  give 
imaginative  literature  a  religious  and  infinite  quality  in 
their  esteem.  I  find,  too,  that  the  chance  for  apprecia- 
tion is  much  increased  by  being  the  son  of  an  apprecia- 
tor,  and  that  these  boys  who  now  grow  up  are  caught  not 
only  years  too  late,  but  two  or  three  births  too  late,  to 
make  the  best  scholars  of.  And  I  think  it  a  presentable 
motive  to  a  scholar,  that,  as,  in  an  old  community,  a  well- 
born proprietor  is  usually  found,  after  the  first  heats  of 
youth,  to  be  a  careful  husband,  and  to  feel  a  habitual  de- 
sire that  the  estate  shall  suffer  no  harm  by  his  administra- 
tion, but  shall  be  delivered  down  to  the  next  heir  in  as 
good  condition  as  he  received  it ;  —  so,  a  considerate  man 
will  reckon  himself  a  subject  of  that  secular  melioration 
by  which  mankind  is  mollified,  cured,  and  refined,  and 
will  shun  every  expenditure  of  his  forces  on  pleasure  or 
gain,  which  will  jeopard  this  social  and  secular  accumu- 
lation. 

The  fossil  strata  show  us  that  Nature  began  with  rudi- 
mental  forms,  and  rose  to  the  more  complex,  as  fast  as 
the  earth  was  fit  for  their  dwelling-place ;  and  that  the 
lower  perish,  as  the  higher  appear.  Very  few  of  our  race 
can  be  said  to  be  yet  finished  men.  We  still  carry  stick- 
ing to  us  some  remains  of  the  preceding  inferior  quadru- 
ped organization.  We  call  these  millions  men ;  but  they 


CULTURE.  131 

are  not  yet  men.  Half  engaged  in  the  soil,  pawing  to 
get  free,  man  needs  all  the  music  that  can  be  brought  to 
disengage  him.  If  Love,  red  Love,  with  tears  and  joy ; 
if  Want  with  his  scourge ;  if  War  with  his  cannonade  ;  if 
Christianity  with  his  charity ;  if  Trade  with  its  money ; 
if  Art  with  its  portfolios ;  if  Science  with  her  telegraphs 
tli rough  the  deeps  of  space  and  time;  can  set  his  dull 
nerves  throbbing,  and  by  loud  taps  on  the  tough  chrysa- 
lis, can  break  its  walls,  and  let  the  new  creature  emerge 
erect  and  free,  —  make  way,  and,  sing  paean !  The  age 
of  the  quadruped  is  to  go  out,  —  the  age  of  the  brain  and 
of  the  heart  is  to  come  in.  The  time  will  come  when  the 
evil  forms  we  have  known  can  no  more  be  organized. 
Man's  culture  can  spare  nothing,  wants  all  the  material. 
He  is  to  convert  all  impediments  into  instruments,  all 
enemies  into  power.  The  formidable  mischief  will  only 
make  the  more  useful  slave.  And  if  one  shall  read  the 
future  of  the  race  hinted  in  the  organic  effort  of  Nature 
to  mount  and  meliorate,  and  the  corresponding  impulse 
to  the  Better  in  the  human  being,  we  shall  dare  affirm 
that  there  is  nothing  he  will  not  overcome  and  convert, 
until  at  last  culture  shall  absorb  the  chaos  and  gehenna. 
He  will  convert  the  Furies  into  Muses,  and  the  hells  into 
benefit. 


V, 

BEHAVIOR. 


GRACE,  Beauty,  and  Caprice 

Build  this  golden  portal; 

Graceful  women,  chosen  men, 

Dazzle  every  mortal: 

Their  sweet  and  lofty  countenance 

His  enchanting  food; 

He  need  not  go  to  them,  their  form 

Beset  his  solitude. 

He  looketh  seldom  in  their  face, 

His  eyes  explore  the  ground, 

The  green  grass  is  a  looking-glass 

"Whereon  their  traits  are  found. 

Little  he  says  to  them, 

So  dances  his  heart  in  his  breast, 

Their  tranquil  mien  bereaveth  him 

Of  wit,  of  words,  of  rest. 

Too  weak  to  win,  too  fond  to  shun 

The  tyrants  of  his  doom, 

The  much-deceived  Endymion 

Slips  behind  a  tomb. 


BEHAVIOR. 


THE  soul  which  animates  Nature  is  not  less  signifi- 
cantly published  in  the  figure,  movement,  and  gesture  of 
animated  bodies,  than  in  its  last  vehicle  of  articulate 
speech.  This  silent  and  subtile  language  is  Manners; 
not  what,  but  how.  Life  expresses.  A  statue  has  no 
tongue,  and  needs  none.  Good  tableaux  do  not  need 
declamation.  Nature  tells  every  secret  once.  Yes,  but 
in  man  she  tells  it  all  the  time,  by  form,  attitude,  gesture, 
mien,  face,  and  parts  of  the  face,  and  by  the  whole  action 
of  the  machine.  The  visible  carriage  or  action  of  the 
individual,  as  resulting  from  his  organization  and  his  will 
combined,  we  call  manners.  What  are  they  but  thought 
entering  the  hands  and  feet,  controlling  the  movements 
of  the  body,  the  speech  and  behavior  ? 

There  is  always  a  best  way  of  doing  everything,  if  it  be 
to  boil  an  egg.  Manners  are  the  happy  ways  of  doing 
things  ;  each  once  a  stroke  of  genius  or  of  love,  —  now 
repeated  and  hardened  into  usage.  They  form  at  last  a 
rich  varnish,  with  which  the  routine  of  life  is  washed, 
and  its  details  adorned.  If  they  are  superficial,  so  are 
the  dewdrops  which  give  such  a  depth  to  the  morning 
meadows.  Banners  are  very  communicable ;  men  catch 
them  from  each  other.  Consuelo,  in  the  romance,  boasts 


136  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

of  the  lessons  she  had  given  the  nobles  in  manners,  on 
the  stage ;  and,  in  real  life,  Talma  taught  Napoleon  the 
arts  of  behavior.  Genius  invents  fine  manners,  which 
the  baron  and  the  baroness  copy  very  fast,  and,  by 
the  advantage  of  a  palace,  better  the  instruction.  They 
stereotype  the  lesson  they  have  learned  into  a  mode. 

The  power  of  manners  is  incessant,  —  an  element  as 
unconcealable  as  fire.  The  nobility  cannot  in  any  coun- 
try be  disguised,  and  no  more  in  a  republic  or  a  democ- 
racy, than  in  a  kingdom.  No  man  can  resist  their  influ- 
ence. There  are  certain  manners  which  are  learned  in 
good  society,  of  that  force,  that,  if  a  person  have  them, 
he  or  she  must  be  considered,  and  is  everywhere  welcome, 
though  without  beauty,  or  wealth,  or  genius.  Give  a 
boy  address  and  accomplishments,  and  you  give  him  the 
mastery  of  palaces  and  fortunes  where  lie  goes.  He  has 
not  the  trouble  of  earning  or  owning  them  ;  they  solicit 
him  to  enter  and  possess.  We  send  girls  of  a  timid,  re- 
treating disposition  to  the  boarding-school,  to  the  riding- 
school,  to  the  ball-room,  or  wheresoever  they  can  come 
into  acquaintance  and  nearness  of  leading  persons  of  their 
own  sex ;  where  they  might  learn  address,  and  see  it  near 
at  hand.  The  power  of  a  woman  of  fashion  to  lead,  and 
also  to  daunt  and  repel,  derives  from  their  belief  that  she 
knows  resources  and  behaviors  not  known  to  them ;  but 
when  these  have  mastered  her  secret,  they  learn  to  con- 
front her,  and  recover  their  self-possession. 

Every  day  bears  witness  to  their  gentle  rule.  People 
who  would  obtrude,  now  do  not  obtrude.  The  mediocre 
circle  learns  to  demand  that  which  belongs  to  a  high  state 
of  nature  or  of  culture.  Your  manners  are  always  under 


BEHAVIOR.  137 

examination,  and  by  committees  little  suspected,  —  a  po- 
lice in  citizens'  clothes,  —  but  are  awarding  or  denying 
you  very  high  prizes  when  you  least  think  of  it. 

We  talk  much  of  utilities,  but 't  is  our  manners  that 
associate  us.  In  hours  of  business,  we  go  to  him  who 
knows,  or  has,  or  does  this  or  that  which  we  want,  and 
we  do  not  let  our  taste  or  feeling  stand  in  the  way.  But 
this  activity  over,  we  return  to  the  indolent  state,  and 
wish  for  those  we  can  be  at  ease  with ;  those  who  will 
go  where  we  go,  whose  manners  do  not  offend  us,  whose 
social  tone  chimes  with  ours.  When  we  reflect  on  their 
persuasive  and  cheering  force ;  how  they  recommend,  pre- 
pare, and  draw  people  together ;  how,  in  all  clubs,  man- 
ners make  the  members ;  how  manners  make  the  fortune  of 
the  ambitious  youth ;  that,  for  the  most  part,  his  manners 
marry  him,  and,  for  the  most  part,  he  marries  manners; 
when  we  think  what  keys  they  are,  and  to  what  secrets ; 
what  high  lessons  and  inspiring  tokens  of  character  they 
convey ;  and  what  divination  is  required  in  us,  for  the  read- 
ing of  this  fine  telegraph,  we  see  what  range  the  subject 
has,  and  what  relations  to  convenience,  power,  and  beauty. 

Their  first  service  is  very  low,  —  when  they  are  the 
minor  morals :  but  't  is  the  beginning  of  civility,  —  to 
make  us,  I  mean,  endurable  to  each  other.  We  prize 
them  fo*r  their  rough-plastic,  abstergent  force;  to  get 
people  out  of  the  quadruped  state  ;  to  get  them  washed, 
clothed,  and  set  up  on  end ;  to  slough  their  animal  husks 
and  habits ;  compel  them  to  be  clean ;  overawe  their 
spite  and  meanness,  teach  them  to  stifle  the  base,  and 
choose  the  generous  expression,  and  make  them  know 
bow  much  happier  the  generous  behaviors  are. 


138  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Bad  behavior  the  laws  cannot  reach.  Society  is  in- 
fested with  rude,  cynical,  restless,  and  frivolous  persons 
who  prey  upon  the  rest,  and  whom  a  public  opinion  con- 
centrated into  good  manners  —  forms  accepted  by  the 
sense  of  all  —  can  reach :  the  contradictors  and  railers 
at  public  and  private  tables,  who  are  like  terriers,  who 
conceive  it  the  duty  of  a  dog  of  honor  to  growl  at  any 
passer-by,  and  do  the  honors  of  the  house  by  barking  him 
out  of  sight :  —  I  have  seen  men  who  neigh  like  a  horse 
when  you  contradict  them,  or  say  something  which  they 
do  not  understand  :  —  then  the  overbold,  who  make  their 
own  invitation  to  your  hearth;  the  persevering  talker, 
who  gives  you  his  society  in  large,  saturating  doses ;  the 
pitiers  of  themselves,  —  a  perilous  class ;  the  frivolous 
Asmodeus,  who  relies  on  you  to  find  him  in  ropes  of 
sand  to  twist ;  the  monotones ;  in  short,  every  stripe  of 
absurdity ;  —  these  are  social  inflictions  which  the  magis- 
trate cannot  cure  or  defend  you  from,  and  which  must  be 
intrusted  to  the  restraining  force  of  custom,  and  prov- 
erbs, and  familiar  rules  of  behavior  impressed  on  young 
people  in  their  school-days. 

In  the  hotels  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  they 
print,  or  used  to  print,  among  the  rules  of  the  house, 
that  "no  gentleman  can  be  permitted  to  come  to  the 
public  table  without  his  coat  " ;  and  in  the  same  country, 
in  the  pews  of  the  churches,  little  placards  plead  with  the 
worshipper  against  the  fury  of  expectoration.  Charles 
Dickens  self-sacrificingly  undertook  the  reformation  of 
our  American  manners  in  unspeakable  particulars.  I 
think  the  lesson  was  not  quite  lost;  that  it  held  bad 
manners  up,  so  that  the  churls  could  see  the  deformity. 


BEHAVIOE.  139 

Unhappily,  the  book  had  its  own  deformities.  It  ought 
not  to  need  to  print  in  a  reading-room  a  caution  to  stran- 
gers not  to  speak  loud ;  nor  to  persons  who  look  over 
fine  engravings,  that  they  should  be  handled  like  cobwebs 
and  butterflies'  wings ;  nor  to  persons  who  look  at  marble 
statues,  that  they  shall  not  smite  them  with  canes.  But, 
even  in  the  perfect  civilization  of  this  city,  such  cautions 
are  not  quite  needless  in  the  Athenaeum  and  City  Li- 
brary. 

Manners  are  factitious,  and  grow  out  of  circumstance 
as  well  as  out  of  character.  If  you  look  at  the  pictures 
of  patricians  and  of  peasants,  of  different  periods  and 
countries,  you  will  see  how  well  they  match  the  same 
classes  in  our  towns.  The  modern  aristocrat  not  only  is 
well  drawn  in  Titian's  Venetian  doges,  and  in  Roman 
coins  and  statues,  but  also  in  the  pictures  which  Commo- 
dore Perry  brought  home  of  dignitaries  in  Japan.  Broad 
lands  and  great  interests  not  only  arrive  to  such  heads  as 
can  manage  them,  but  form  manners  of  power.  A  keen 
eye,  too,  will  see  nice  gradations  of  rank,  or  see  in  the 
manners  the  degree  of  homage  the  party  is  wont  to  re- 
ceive. A  prince  who  is  accustomed  every  day  to  be 
courted  and  deferred  to  by  the  highest  grandees,  acquires 
a  corresponding  expectation,  and  a  becoming  mode  of 
receiving  and  replying  to  this  homage. 

There  are  always  exceptional  people  and  modes.  Eng- 
lish grandees  affect  to  be  farmers.  Claverhouse  is  a  fop, 
and,  under  the  finish  of  dress,  and  levity  of  behavior, 
hides  the  terror  of  his  war.  But  nature  and  Destiny  are 
honest,  and  never  fail  to  leave  their  mark,  to  hang  out  a 
sign  for  each  and  for  every  quality.  It  is  much  to  con- 


140  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

quer  one's  face,  and  perhaps  the  ambitious  youth  thinks 
he  has  got  the  whole  secret  when  he  has  learned  that 
disengaged  manners  are  commanding.  Don't  be  de- 
ceived by  a  facile  exterior.  Tender  men  sometimes  have 
strong  wills.  We  had,  in  Massachusetts,  an  old  states- 
man, who  had  sat  all  his  life  in  courts  and  in  chairs  of 
state,  without  overcoming  an  extreme  irritability  of  face, 
voice,  and  bearing :  when  he  spoke,  his  voice  would  not 
serve  him ;  it  cracked,  it  broke,  it  wheezed,  it  piped ; 
little  cared  he ;  he  knew  that  it  had  got  to  pipe,  or 
wheeze,  or  screech  his  argument  and  his  indignation. 
When  he  sat  down,  after  speaking,  he  seemed  in  a  sort 
of  fit,  and  held  on  to  his  chair  with  both  hands :  but 
underneath  all  this  irritability  was  a  puissant  will,  firm, 
and  advancing,  and  a  memory  in  which  lay  in  order  and 
method  like  geologic  strata  every  fact  of  his  history,  and 
under  the  control  of  his  will. 

Manners  are  partly  factitious,  but,  mainly,  there  must 
be  capacity  for  culture  in  the  blood.  Else  all  culture  is 
vain.  The  obstinate  prejudice  in  favor  of  blood,  which 
lies  at  the  base  of  the  feudal  and  monarchical  fabrics  of 
the  Old  World,  has  some  reason  in  common  experience. 
Every  man  —  mathematician,  artist,  soldier,  or  merchant 
—  looks  with  confidence  for  some  traits  and  talents  in  his 
own  child,  which  he  would  not  dare  to  presume  in  the 
child  of  a  stranger.  The  Orientalists  are  very  orthodox 
on  this  point.  "Take  a  thorn-bush,"  said  the  emir 
Abdel-Kader,  "and  sprinkle  it  for  a  whole  year  with 
water;  it  will  yield  nothing  but  thorns.  Take  a  date- 
tree,  leave  it  without  culture,  and  it  will  always  produce 
dates.  Nobility  is  the  date-tree,  and  the  Arab  populace  is 
a  bush  ot  thorns." 


BEHAVIOR.  14L 

A  main  fact  in  the  history  of  manners  is  the  wonder- 
ful expressiveness  of  the  human  body.  If  it  were  made 
of  glass,  or  of  air,  and  the  thoughts  were  written  on 
steel  tablets  within,  it  could  not  publish  more  truly  its 
meaning  than  now.  Wise  men  read  very  sharply  all 
your  private  history  in  your  look  and  gait  and  behavior. 
The  whole  economy  of  nature  is  bent  on  expression. 
The  telltale  body  is  all  tongues.  Men  are  like  Geneva 
watches  with  crystal  faces  which  expose  the  whole  move- 
ment. They  carry  the  liquor  of  life  flowing  up  and 
down  in  these  beautiful  bottles,  and  announcing  to  the 
curious  how  it  is  with  them.  The  face  and  eyes  reveal 
what  the  spirit  is  doing,  how  old  it  is,  what  aims  it  has. 
The  eyes  indicate  the  antiquity  of  the  soul,  or,  through 
how  many  forms  it  has  already  ascended.  It  almost  vio- 
lates the  proprieties,  if  we  say  above  the  breath  here, 
what  the  confessing  eyes  do  not  hesitate  to  utter  to  every 
street  passenger. 

Man  cannot  fix  his  eye  on  the  sun,  and  so  far  seems 
imperfect.  In  Siberia,  a  late  traveller  found  men  who 
could  see  the  satellites  of  Jupiter  with  their  unarmed  eye. 
In  some  respects  the  animals  excel  us.  The  birds  have 
a  longer  sight,  beside  the  advantage  by  their  wings  of  a 
higher  observatory.  A  cow  can  bid  her  calf,  by  secret 
signal,  probably  of  the  eye,  to  run  away,  or  to  lie  down 
and  hide  itself.  The  jockeys  say  of  certain  horses,  that 
"  they  look  over  the  whole  ground."  The  outdoor  life, 
and  hunting,  and  labor,  give  equal  vigor  to  the  human 
eye.  A  farmer  looks  out  at  you  as  strong  as  the  horse ; 
his  eye-beam  is  like  the  stroke  of  a  staff.  An  eye  can 
threaten  like  a  loaded  and  levelled  gun,  or  can  insult  like 


142  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

hissing  or  kicking ;  or,  in  its  altered  mood,  by  beams  of 
kindness,  it  can  make  the  heart  dance  with  joy. 

The  eye  obeys  exactly  the  action  of  the  mind.  When 
a  thought  strikes  us,  the  eyes  fix,  and  remain  gazing  at 
a  distance ;  in  enumerating  the  names  of  persons  or  of 
countries,  as  France,  Germany,  Spain,  Turkey,  the  eyes 
wink  at  each  new  name.  There  is  no  nicety  of  learning 
sought  by  the  mind,  which  the  eyes  do  not  vie  in  acquir- 
ing. "  An  artist,"  said  Michel  Angelo,  "  must  have  his 
measuring  tools  not  in  the  hand,  but  in  the  eye  " ;  and 
there  is  no  end  to  the  catalogue  of  its  performances, 
•whether  in  indolent  vision  (that  of  health  and  beauty), 
or  in  strained  vision  (that  of  art  and  labor). 

Eyes  are  bold  as  lions,  —  roving,  running,  leaping, 
here  and  there,  far  and  near.  They  speak  all  languages. 
They  wait  for  no  introduction ;  they  are  no  Englishmen ; 
ask  no  leave  of  age  or  rank ;  they  respect  neither  pov- 
erty nor  riches,  neither  learning  nor  power,  nor  virtue, 
nor  sex,  but  intrude,  and  come  again,  and  go  through 
and  through  you,  in  a  moment  of  time.  What  inunda- 
tion of  life  and  thought  is  discharged  from  one  soul  into 
another,  through  them !  The  glance  is  natural  magic. 
The  mysterious  communication  established  across  a  house 
between  two  entire  strangers,  moves  all  the  springs  of 
wonder.  The  communication  by  the  glance  is  in  the 
greatest  part  not  subject  to  the  control  of  the  will. 
It  is  the  bodily  symbol  of  identity  of  nature.  We  look 
into  the  eyes  to  know  if  this  other  form  is  another  self, 
and  the  eyes  will  not  lie,  but  make  a  faithful  confession 
what  inhabitant  is  there.  The  revelations  are  sometimes 
terrific.  The  confession  of  a  low,  usurping  devil  is  (here 


BEHAVIOR.  143 

made,  and  the  observer  shall  seem  to  feel  the  stirring  of 
owls,  and  bats,  and  horned  hoofs,  where  he  looked  for 
innocence  and  simplicity.  'T  is  remarkable,  too,  that  the 
spirit  that  appears  at  the  windows  of  the  house  does  at 
once  invest  himself  in  a  new  form  of  his  own,  to  the 
mind  of  the  beholder. 

The  eyes  of  men  converse  as  much  as  their  tongues, 
with  the  advantage,  that  the  ocular  dialect  needs  no  dic- 
tionary, but  is  understood  all  the  world  over.  When  the 
eyes  say  one  thing,  and  the  tongue  another,  a  practised 
man  relies  on  the  language  of  the  first.  If  the  man  is 
off  his  centre,  the  eyes  show  it.  You  can  read  in  the 
eyes  of  your  companion,  whether  your  argument  hits 
him,  though  his  tongue  will  not  confess  it.  There  is  a 
look  by  which  a  man  shows  he  is  going  to  say  a  good 
thing,  and  a  look  when  he  has  said  it.  Vain  and  for- 
gotten are  all  the  fine  offers  and  offices  of  hospitality,  if 
there  is  no  holiday  in  the  eye.  How  many  furtive  incli- 
nations avowed  by  the  eye,  though  dissembled  by  the 
lips  !  One  comes  away  from  a  company,  in  which,  it  may 
easily  happen,  he  has  said  nothing,  and  no  important 
remark  has  been  addressed  to  him,  and  yet,  if  in  sympa- 
thy with  the  society,  he  shall  not  have  a  sense  of  this 
fact,  such  a  stream  of  life  has  been  flowing  into  him,  and 
out  from  him,  through  the  eyes.  There  are  eyes,  to  be 
sure,  that  give  no  more  admission  into  the  man  than  blue- 
berries. Others  are  liquid  and  deep,  —  wells  that  a  man 
might  fall  into  ;  —  others  are  aggressive  and  devouring, 
seem  to  call  out  the  police,  take  all  too  much  notice,  and 
require  crowded  Broadways,  and  the  security  of  millions, 
to  protect  individuals  against  them.  The  military  eye  I 


144  CONDUCT   OF    LIFE. 

meet,  now  darkly  sparkling  under  clerical,  now  undei 
rustic  brows.  'T  is  the  city  of  Lacedsemon ;  't  is  a  stack 
of  bayonets.  There  are  asking  eyes,  asserting  eyes, 
prowling  eyes ;  and  eyes  full  of  fate,  —  some  of  good, 
and  some  of  sinister  omen.  The  alleged  power  to  charm 
down  insanity,  or  ferocity  in  beasts,  is  a  power  behind 
the  eye.  It  must  be  a  victory  achieved  in  the  will,  before 
it  can  be  signified  in  the  eye.  'T  is  very  certain  that  each 
man  carries  in  his  eye  the  exact  indication  of  his  rank  in 
the  immense  scale  of  men,  and  we  are  always  learning 
to  read  it.  A  complete  man  should  need  no  auxiliaries  to 
his  personal  presence.  Whoever  looked  on  him  would 
consent  to  his  will,  being  certified  that  his  aims  were  gen- 
erous and  universal.  The  reason  why  men  do  not  obey 
us,  is  because  they  see  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  our 
eye. 

If  the  organ  of  sight  is  such  a  vehicle  of  power,  the 
other  features  have  their  own.  A  man  finds  room  in 
the  few  square  inches  of  the  face  for  the  traits  of  all  his 
ancestors ;  for  the  expression  of  all  his  history,  and  his 
wants.  The  sculptor,  and  Winckelmann,  and  Lavater, 
will  tell  you  how  significant  a  feature  is  the  nose ;  how 
its  forms  express  strength  or  weakness  of  will,  and  good 
or  bad  temper.  The  nose  of  Julius  Caesar,  of  Dante, 
and  of  Pitt  suggest  "  the  terrors  of  the  beak."  What 
refinement,  and  what  limitations,  the  teeth  betray ! 
"  Beware  you  don't  laugh,"  said  the  wise  mother,  "  for 
then  you  show  all  your  faults." 

Balzac  left  in  manuscript  a  chapter,  which  he  called 
" Theorie  de  la  demarche"  in  which  he  says  :  " The  look, 
the  voice,  the  respiration,  and  the  attitude  or  walk  are 


BEHAVIOR.  145 

identical.  But,  as  it  has  not  been  given  to  man,  the 
power  to  stand  guard,  at  once,  over  these  four  different 
simultaneous  expressions  of  his  thought,  watch  that  one 
which  speaks  out  the  truth,  aud  you  will  know  the  whole 
man." 

Palaces  interest  us  mainly  in  the  exhibition  of  manners, 
which  in  the  idle  and  expensive  society  dwelling  in  them 
are  raised  to  a  high  art.  The  maxim  of  courts  is  that 
manner  is  power.  A  calm  and  resolute  bearing,  a  pol- 
ished speech,  an  embellishment  of  trifles,  and  the  art  of 
hiding  all  uncomfortable  feeling,  are  essential  to  the 
courtier ;  and  Saint  Simon,  and  Cardinal  de  Retz,  and 
Rrederer,  and  an  encyclopaedia  of  Memoires,  will  in- 
struct you,  if  you  wish,  in  those  potent  secrets.  Thus, 
it  is  a  point  of  pride  with  kings,  to  remember  faces 
and  names.  It  is  reported  of  one  prince,  that  his 
head  had  the  air  of  leaning  downwards,  in  order  not 
to  humble  the  crowd.  There  are  people  who  come  in 
ever  like  a  child  with  a  piece  of  good  news.  It  was 
said  of  the  late  Lord  Holland,  that  he  always  came  down 
to  breakfast  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  just  met  with 
some  signal  good  fortune.  In  "  Notre  Dame"  the  gran- 
dee took  his  place  on  the  dais,  with  the  look  of  one 
who  is  thinking  of  something  else.  But  we  must  not 
peep  and  eavesdrop  at  palace-doors. 

Tine  manners  need  the  support  of  fine  manners  in 
others.  A  scholar  may  be  a  well-bred  man,  or  he  may 
not.  The  enthusiast  is  introduced  to  polished  scholars 
in  society,  and  is  chilled  and  silenced  by  finding  himself 
not  ia  their  element.  They  all  have  somewhat  which  he 
has  not,  aud,  it  seems,  ought  to  have.  But  if  he  finds 
7  J 


146  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

the  scholar  apart  from  his  companions,  it  is  then  the  en- 
thusiast's turn,  and  the  scholar  has  no  defence,  but  must 
deal  on  his  terms.  Now  they  must  fight  the  battle  out 
on  their  private  strength.  What  is  the  talent  of  that 
character  so  common,  —  the  successful  man  of  the  world, 
—  in  all  marts,  senates,  and  drawing-rooms  ?  Manners  : 
manners  of  power ;  sense  to  see  his  advantage,  and  man- 
ners up  to  it.  See  him  approach  his  man.  He  knows 
that  troops  behave  as  they  are  handled  at  first ; —  that  is 
his  cheap  secret;  just  what  happens  to  every  two  persons 
who  meet  on  any  affair,  one  instantly  perceives  that  he 
has  the  key  of  the  situation,  that  his  will  comprehends 
the  other's  will,  as  the  cat  does  the  mouse ;  and  he  has 
only  to  use  courtesy,  and  furnish  good-natured  reasons  to 
his  victim  to  cover  up  the  chain,  lest  he  be  shamed  into 
resistance. 

The  theatre  in  which  this  science  of  manners  has  a  for- 
mal importance  is  not  with  us  a  court,  but  dress-circles, 
wherein,  after  the  close  of  the  day's  business,  men  and 
women  meet  at  leisure,  for  mutual  entertainment,  in 
ornamented  drawing-rooms.  Of  course,  it  has  every 
variety  of  attraction  and  merit ;  but,  to  earnest  persons, 
to  youths  or  maidens  who  have  great  objects  at  heart, 
we  cannot  extol  it  highly.  A  well-dressed,  talkative 
company,  where  each  is  bent  to  amuse  the  other,  —  yet 
the  high-born  Turk  who  came  hither  fancied  that  every 
woman  seemed  to  be  suffering  for  a  chair ;  that  all  the 
talkers  were  brained  and  exhausted  by  the  deoxygenated 
air ;  it  spoiled  the  best  persons  :  it  put  all  on  stilts.  Yet 
here  are  the  secret  biographies  written  and  read.  The 
aspect  of  that  man  is  repulsive ;  I  do  not  wish  to  deal 


BEHAVIOR.  147 

with  him.  The  of  her  is  irritable,  shy,  and  on  his  guard. 
The  youth  looks  humble  and  manly :  I  choose  him. 
Look  on  this  woman.  There  is  not  beauty,  nor  brilliant 
sayings,  nor  distinguished  power  to  serve  you ;  but  all 
see  her  gladly ;  her  whole  air  and  impression  are  health- 
ful. Here  come  the  sentimentalists,  and  the  invalids. 
Here  is  Elise,  who  caught  cold  in  coming  into  the  world, 
and  has  always  increased  it  since.  Here  are  creep- 
mouse  manners ;  and  thievish  manners.  "  Look  at 
Northcote,"  said  Fuseli ;  "  he  looks  like  a  rat  that  has 
seen  a  cat."  In  the  shallow  company,  easily  excited, 
easily  tired,  here  is  the  columnar  Bernard :  the  Alle- 
ghanies  do  not  express  more  repose  than  his  behavior. 
Here  are  the  sweet  following  eyes  of  Cecile :  it  seemed 
always  that  she  demanded  the  heart.  Nothing  can 
be  more  excellent  in  kind  than  the  Corinthian  grace 
of  Gertrude's  manners,  and  yet  Blanche,  who  has  no 
manners,  has  better  manners  than  she ;  for  the  move- 
ments of  Blanche  are  the  sallies  of  a  spirit  which  is  suf- 
ficient for  the  moment,  and  she  can  afford  to  express 
every  thought  by  instant  action. 

Manners  have  been  somewhat  cynically  defined  to  be 
a  contrivance  of  wise  men  to  keep  fools  at  a  distance. 
Fashion  is  shrewd  to  detect  those  who  do  not  belong  to 
her  train,  and  seldom  wastes  her  attentions.  Society  is 
very  swift  in  its  instincts,  and,  if  you  do  not  belong  to  it, 
resists  and  sneers  at  you;  or  quietly  drops  you.  The 
first  weapon  enrages  the  party  attacked ;  the  second  i? 
still  more  effective,  but  is  not  to  be  resisted,  as  the  date 
of  the  transaction  is  not  easily  found.  People  grow  up 
and  grow  old  under  this  infliction,  and  never  suspect  the 


148  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

truth,  ascribing  the  solitude  which  acts  on  them  very  in- 
juriously to  any  cause  but  the  right  one. 

The  basis  of  good  manners  is  self-reliance.  Necessity 
is  the  law  of  all  who  are  not  self-possessed.  Those  who 
are  not  self-possessed  obtrude  and  pain  us.  Some  men 
appear  to  feel  that  they  belong  to  a  Pariah  caste.  They 
fear  to  offend,  they  bend  and  apologize,  and  walk  through 
life  with  a  timid  step.  As  we  sometimes  dream  that  we 
aie  in  a  well-dressed  company  without  any  coat,  so  God- 
frey acts  ever  as  if  he  suffered  from  some  mortifying  cir- 
cumstance. The  hero  should  find  himself  at  home,  wher- 
ever he  is ;  should  impart  comfort  by  his  own  security 
and  good-nature  to  all  beholders.  The  hero  is  suffered 
to  be  himself.  A  person  of  strong  mind  comes  to  per- 
ceive that  for  him  an  immunity  is  secured  so  long  as  he 
renders  to  society  that  service  which  is  native  and  proper 
to  him,  —  an  immunity  from  all  the  observances,  yea,  and 
duties,  which  society  so  tyrannically  imposes  on  the  rank 
and  file  of  its  members.  "  Euripides,"  says  Aspasia, 
"  has  not  the  fine  manners  of  Sophocles  :  but,"  she  adds, 
good-humoredly,  "  the  movers  and  masters  of  our  souls 
have  surely  a  right  to  throw  out  their  limbs  as  carelessly 
as  they  please,  on  the  world  that  belongs  to  them,  and 
before  the  creatures  they  have  animated."  * 

Manners  require  time,  as  nothing  is  more  vulgar  than 
haste.  Friendship  should  be  surrounded  with  ceremonies 
and  respects,  and  not  crushed  into  comers.  Friendship 
requires  more  time  than  poor  busy  men  can  usually  com- 
mand. Here  comes  to  me  Eoland,  with  a  delicacy  of 
sentiment  leading  and  inwrapping  him  like  a  divine  cloud 

*  Laiidor,  Pericles  and  Aspasia. 


BEHAVIOR.  149 

or  holy  ghost.  'T  is  a  great  destitution  to  both  that  this 
should  not  be  entertained  with  large  leisures,  but  contra- 
riwise should  be  balked  by  importunate  affairs. 

But  through  this  lustrous  varnish,  the  reality  is  ever 
shining.  'T  is  hard  to  keep  the  what  from  breaking 
through  this  pretty  painting  of  the  how.  The  core  will 
come  to  the  surface.  Strong  will  and  keen  perception 
overpower  old  manners,  and  create  new ;  and  the  thought 
of  the  present  moment  has  a  greater  value  than  all  the 
past.  In  persons  of  character,  we  do  not  remark  man- 
ners, because  of  their  instantaneousness.  We  are  sur- 
prised by  the  thing  done,  out  of  all  power  to  watch  the 
way  of  it.  Yet  nothing  is  more  charming  than  to  recog- 
nize the  great  style  which  runs  through  the  actions  of 
such.  People  masquerade  before  us  in  their  fortunes, 
titles,  offices,  and  connections,  as  academic  or  civil  presi- 
dents, or  senators,  or  professors,  or  great  lawyers,  and 
impose  on  the  frivolous,  and  a  good  deal  on  each  other, 
by  these  fames.  At  least,  it  is  a  point  of  prudent  good 
manners  to  treat  these  reputations  tenderly,  as  if  they 
were  merited.  But  the  sad  realist  knows  these  fellows 
at  a  glance,  and  they  know  him ;  as  when  in  Paris  the 
chief  of  the  police  enters  a  ball-room,  so  many  diamonded 
pretenders  shrink  and  make  themselves  as  inconspicuous 
as  they  can,  or  give  him  a  supplicating  look  as  they  pass. 
"I  had  received,"  said  a  sibyl,  —  "I  had  received  at 
birth  the  fatal  gift  of  penetration "  ;  and  these  Cassan- 
dras  are  always  born. 

Manners  impress  as  they  indicate  real  power.  A  man 
who  is  sure  of  his  point,  carries  a  broad  and  contented 
expression,  which  everybody  reads.  And  you  cannot 


150  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

rightly  train  one  to  an  air  and  manner,  except  by  making 
him  the  kind  of  man  of  whom  that  manner  is  the  natural 
expression.  Nature  forever  puts  a  premium  on  reality. 
What  is  done  for  effect,  is  seen  to  be  done  for  effect ; 
what  is  done  for  love,  is  felt  to  be  done  for  love.  A  man 
inspires  affection  and  honor,  because  he  was  not  lying  in 
wait  for  these.  The  things  of  a  man  for  which  we  visit 
him,  were  done  in  the  dark  and  the  cold.  A  little  integ- 
rity is  better  than  any  career.  So  deep  are  the  sources 
of  this  surface-action,  that  even  the  size  of  your  compan- 
ion seems  to  vary  with  his  freedom  of  thought.  Not 
only  is  he  larger,  when  at  ease,  and  his  thoughts  gener- 
ous, but  everything  around  him  becomes  variable  with 
expression.  No  carpenter's  rule,  no  rod  and  chain,  will 
measure  the  dimensions  of  any  house  or  house-lot :  go 
into  the  house :  if  the  proprietor  is  constrained  and  de- 
ferring, 't  is  of  no  importance  how  large  his  house,  How 
beautiful  his  grounds,  —  you  quickly  come  to  the  end  of 
all ;  but  if  the  man  is  self-possessed,  happy,  and  at  home, 
his  house  is  deep-founded,  indefinitely  large  and  interesting, 
the  roof  and  dome  buoyant  as  the  sky.  Under  the  hum- 
blest roof,  the  commonest  person  in  plain  clothes  sits 
there  massive,  cheerful,  yet  formidable  like  the  Egyptian 
colossi. 

Neither  Aristotle,  nor  Leibnitz,  nor  Junius,  nor  Cham- 
pollion  has  set  down  the  grammar-rules  of  this  dialect, 
older  than  Sanscrit ;  but  they  who  cannot  yet  read  Eng- 
lish, can  read  this.  Men  take  each  other's  measure, 
when  they  meet  for  the  first  time,  —  and  every  time  they 
meet.  How  do  they  get  this  rapid  knowledge,  even 
before  they  speak,  of  each  other's  power  and  disposi- 


BEHAVIOR.  151 

tions?  One  would  say  that  the  persuasion  of  their 
speech  is  not  in  what  they  say,  —  or,  that  men  do  not 
convince  by  their  argument,  —  but  by  their  personality, 
by  who  they  are,  and  what  they  said  aud  did  heretofore. 
A  man  already  strong  is  listened  to,  and  everything  he 
says  is  applauded.  Another  opposes  him  with  sound 
argument,  but  the  argument  is  scouted,  until  by  and  by 
it  gets  into  the  mind  of  some  weighty  person;  then  it 
begins  to  tell  on  the  community. 

Self-reliance  is  the  basis  of  behavior,  as  it  is  the  guar- 
anty that  the  powers  are  not  squandered  in  too  much 
demonstration.  In  this  country,  where  school  education 
is  universal,  we  have  a  superficial  culture,  and  a  profu- 
sion of  reading  and  writing  and  expression.  We  parade 
our  nobilities  in  poems  and  orations,  instead  of  working 
them  up  into  happiness.  There  is  a  whisper  out  of  the  ages 
to  him  who  can  understand  it,  —  "  Whatever  is  known 
to  thyself  alone  has  always  very  great  value."  There  is 
some  reason  to  believe  that,  when  a  man  does  not  write 
his  poetry,  it  escapes  by  other  vents  through  him,  instead 
of  the  one  vent  of  writing ;  clings  to  his  form  and  man- 
ners, whilst  poets  have  often  nothing  poetical  about  them 
except  their  verses.  Jacobi  said,  that  "  when  a  man  has 
fully  expressed  his*  thought,  he  has  somewhat  less  pos- 
session of  it."  One  would  say,  the  rule  is,  —  What 
a  man  is  irresistibly  urged  to  say,  helps  him  and  us. 
In  explaining  his  thought  to  others,  he  explains  it  to 
himself:  but  when  he  opens  it  for  show,  it  corrupts 
him. 

Society  is  the  stage  on  which  manners  are  shown; 
novels  are  their  literature.  Novels  are  the  journal  or 


152  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

record  of  manners ;  and  the  new  importance  of  these 
books  derives  from  the  fact  that  the  novelist  begins  to 
penetrate  the  surface,  and  treat  this  part  of  life  more 
worthily.  The  novels  used  to  be  all  alike,  and  had  a  quite 
vulgar  tone.  The  novels  used  to  lead  us  on  to  a  foolish 
interest  in  the  fortunes  of  the  boy  and  girl  they  described. 
The  boy  was  to  be  raised  from  a  humble  to  a  high  posi- 
tion. He  was  in  want  of  a  wife  and  a  castle,  and  the 
object  of  the  story  was  to  supply  him  with  one  or  both. 
We  watched  sympathetically,  step  by  step,  his  climb- 
ing, until,  at  last,  the  point  is  gained,  the  wedding-day 
is  fixed,  and  we  follow  the  gala  procession  home  to 
the  bannered  portal,  when  the  doors  are  slammed  in  our 
face,  and  the  poor  reader  is  left  outside  in  the  cold, 
not  enriched  by  so  much  as  an  idea,  or  a  virtuous  im- 
pulse. 

But  the  victories  of  character  are  instant,  and  victories 
for  all.  Its  greatness  enlarges  all.  We  are  fortified 
by  every  heroic  anecdote.  The  novels  are  as  useful  as 
Bibles,  if  they  teach  you  the  secret,  that  the  best  of  life 
is  conversation,  and  the  greatest  success  is  confidence,  or 
perfect  understanding  between  sincere  people.  'Tis  a 
French  definition  of  friendship,  rien  que  s' 'entendre,  good 
understanding.  The  highest  compact  we  can  make  with 
our  fellow  is,  — "  Let  there  be  truth  between  us  two 
forevermore."  That  is  the  charm  in  all  good  novels,  as 
it  is  the  charm  in  all  good  histories,  that  the  heroes  mu- 
tually understand,  from  the  first,  and  deal  loyally,  and 
with  a  profound  trust  in  each  other.  It  is  sublime  (o 
feel  and  say  of  another,  I  need  never  meet,  or  speak, 
or  write  to  him :  we  need  not  reinforce  ourselves,  or 


BEHAVIOR.  153 

send  tokens  of  remembrance  :  I  rely  on  him  as  on  my- 
self: if  he  did  thus  or  thus,  I  know  it  was  right. 

In  all  the  superior  people  I  have  met,  I  notice  direct- 
ness, truth  spoken  more  truly,  as  if  everything  of  obstruc- 
tion, of  malformation,  had  been  trained  away.  What 
have  they  to  conceal  ?  What  have  they  to  exhibit  ? 
Between  simple  and  noble  persons  there  is  always  a 
quick  intelligence  :  they  recognize  at  sight,  and  meet  on 
a  better  ground  than  the  talents  and  skills  they  may 
chance  to  possess,  namely,  on  sincerity  and  uprightness. 
For,  it  is  not  what  talents  or  genius  a  man  has,  but  how 
he  is  to  his  talents,  that  constitutes  friendship  and  char- 
acter. The  man  that  stands  by  himself,  the  universe  stands 
by  him  also.  It  is  related  of  the  monk  Basle,  that,  being 
excommunicated  by  the  Pope,  he  was,  at  his  death,  sent 
in  charge  of  an  angel  to  find  a  fit  place  of  sutl'ering  in 
hell ;  but,  such  was  the  eloquence  and  good-humor  of  the 
monk,  that  wherever  he  went  he  was  received  gladly,  and 
civilly  treated,  even  by  the  most  uncivil  angels :  and, 
when  he  came  to  discourse  with  them,  instead  of  contra- 
dicting or  forcing  him,  they  took  his  part,  and  adopted 
his  manners  :  and  even  good  angels  came  from  far,  to 
see  him,  and  take  up  their  abode  with  him.  The  angel 
that  was  sent  to  find  a  place  of  torment  for  him  attempted 
to  remove  him  to  a  worse  pit,  but  with  no  better  success ; 
for  such  was  the  contented  spirit  of  the  monk,  that  he 
found  something  to  praise  in  every  place  and  company, 
though  in  hell,  and  made  a  kind  of  heaven  of  it.  At  last 
the  escorting  angel  returned  with  his  prisoner  to  them 
that  sent  him,  saying  that  no  phlegethon  could  be  found 
that  would  burn  him ;  for  that,  in  whatever  condition, 


154  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Basle  remained  incorrigibly  Basle.  The  legend  says,  his 
sentence  was  remitted,  and  he  was  allowed  to  go  into 
heaven,  and  was  canonized  as  a  saint. 

There  is  a  stroke  of  magnanimity  in  the  correspond- 
ence of  Bonaparte  with  his  brother  Joseph,  when  the  lat- 
ter was  King  of  Spain,  and  complained  that  he  missed 
in  Napoleon's  letters  the  affectionate  tone  which  had 
marked  their  childish  correspondence.  "  I  am  sorry," 
replies  Napoleon,  "  you  think  you  shall  find  your  brother 
again  only  in  the  Elysian  Fields.  It  is  natural,  that  at 
forty,  he  should  not  feel  towards  you  as  he  did  at  twelve. 
But  his  feelings  towards  you  have  greater  truth  and 
strength.  His  friendship  has  the  features  of  his  mind." 

How  much  we  forgive  in  those  who  yield  us  the  rare 
spectacle  of  heroic  manners  !  We  will  pardon  them  the 
want  of  books,  of  arts,  and  even  of  the  gentler  virtues. 
How  tenaciously  we  remember  them  !  Here  is  a  lesson 
which  I  brought  along  with  me  in  boyhood  from  the 
Latin  School,  and  which  ranks  with  the  best  of  Roman 
anecdotes.  Marcus  Scaurus  was  accused  by  Quiutus 
Varius  Hispanus,  that  he  had  excited  the  allies  to  take 
arms  against  the  Republic.  But  he,  full  of  firmness  and 
gravity,  defended  himself  in  this  manner :  "  Quintus 
Varius  Hispanus  alleges  that  Marcus  Scaurus,  President 
of  the  Senate,  excited  the  allies  to  arms  :  Marcus  Scau- 
rus,  President  of  the  Senate,  denies  it.  There  is  no 
witness.  Which  do  you  believe,  Romans  ? "  "  Utri 
creditis,  Quirites  ? "  When  he  had  said  these  words, 
he  was  absolved  by  the  assembly  of  the  people. 

I  have  seen  manners  that  make  a  similar  impression 
with  personal  beauty ;  that  give  the  like  exhilaration, 


BEHAVIOR.  155 

and  refine  us  like  that ;  and,  in  memorable  experiences, 
they  are  suddenly  better  than  beauty,  and  make  that 
superfluous  and  ugly.  But  they  must  be  marked  by  fine 
perception,  the  acquaintance  with  real  beauty.  They 
must  always  show  self-control :  you  shall  not  be  facile, 
apologetic,  or  leaky,  but  king  over  your  word ;  and 
every  gesture  and  action  shall  indicate  power  at  rest. 
Then  they  must  be  inspired  by  the  good  heart.  There 
is  no  beautifier  of  complexion,  or  form,  or  behavior,  like 
the  wish  to  scatter  joy  and  not  pain  around  us.  'T  is 
good  to  give  a  stranger  a  meal,  or  a  night's  lodging. 
'T  is  better  to  be  hospitable  to  his  good  meaning  and 
thought,  and  give  courage  to  a  companion.  We  must 
be  as  courteous  to  a  man  as  we  are  to  a  picture,  which 
we  are  willing  to  give  the  advantage  of  a  good  light. 
Special  precepts  are  not  to  be  thought  of :  the  talent  of 
well-doing  contains  them  all.  Every  hour  will  show  a 
duty  as  paramount  as  that  of  my  whim  just  now ;  and 
yet  I  will  write  it,  —  that  there  is  one  topic  perempto- 
rily forbidden  to  all  well-bred,  to  all  rational  mortals, 
namely,  their  distempers.  If  you  have  not  slept,  or  if 
you  have  slept,  or  if  you  have  headache,  or  sciatica,  or 
leprosy,  or  thunder-stroke,  I  beseech  you,  by  all  angels, 
to  hold  your  peace,  and  not  pollute  the  morning,  to  which 
all  the  housemates  bring  serene  and  pleasant  thoughts, 
by  corruption  and  groans.  Come  out  of  the  azure. 
Love  the  day.  Do  not  leave  the  sky  out  of  your  land- 
scape. The  oldest  and  the  most  deserving  person  should 
come  very  modestly  into  any  newly  awaked  company, 
respecting  the  divine  communications,  out  of  which  all 
must  be  presumed  to  have  newly  come.  An  old  man 


156  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

who  added  an  elevating  culture  to  a  large  experience  of 
life,  said  to  me  :  "  When  you  come  into  the  room,  I 
think  I  will  study  how  to  make  humanity  beautiful  to 
you." 

As  respects  the  delicate  question  of  culture,  I  do  not 
think  that  any  other  than  negative  rules  can  be  laid  down. 
For  positive  rules,  for  suggestion,  Nature  alone  inspires 
it.  Who  dare  assume  to  guide  a  youth,  a  maid,  to  per- 
fect manners  ?  —  the  golden  mean  is  so  delicate,  difficult, 
—  say  frankly,  unattainable.  What  finest  hands  would 
not  be  clumsy  to  sketch  the  genial  precepts  of  the  young 
girl's  demeanor  ?  The  chances  seem  infinite  against 
success  ;  and  yet  success  is  continually  attained.  There 
must  not  be  secondariness,  and  't  is  a  thousand  to  one 
that  her  air  and  manner  will  at  once  betray  that  she  is 
not  primary,  but  that  there  is  some  other  one  or  many 
of  her  class,  to  whom  she  habitually  postpones  herself. 
But  Nature  lifts  her  easily,  and  without  knowing  it, 
over  these  impossibilities,  and  we  are  continually  sur- 
prised with  graces  and  felicities  not  only  unteachable, 
but  undescribable. 


YL 

WORSHIP. 


THIS  is  he,  who,  felled  by  foes, 

Sprung  harmless  up,  refreshed  by  blows : 

He  to  captivity  was   sold, 

But  him  no  prison-bars  would  hold : 

Though  they  sealed  him  in  a  rock, 

Mountain  chains  he  can  unlock : 

Thrown  to  lions  for  their  meat, 

The  crouching  lion  kissed  his  feet: 

Bound  to  the  stake,  no  flames  appalled, 

But  arched  o'er  him  an  honoring  vault. 

This  is  he  men  miscall  Fate, 

Threading  dark  ways,  arriving  late, 

But  ever  coming  in  time  to  crown 

The  truth,  and  hurl  wrong-doers  down. 

He  is  the  oldest,  and  best  known, 

More  near  than  aught  thou  call'st  thy  own, 

Yet,  greeted  in  another's  eyes, 

Disconcerts  with  glad  surprise. 

This  is  Jove,  who,  deaf  to  prayers, 

Floods  with  blessings  unawares. 

Draw,  if  thou  canst,  the  mystic  line, 

Severing  rightly  his  from  thine, 

Which  is  human,  which  divine. 


WORSHIP. 


SOME  of  my  friends  have  complained,  when  the  pre- 
ceding papers  were  read,  that  we  discussed  Fate,  Power, 
and  Wealth  on  too  low  a  platform ;  gave  too  much  line 
to  the  evil  spirit  of  the  times ;  too  many  cakes  to  Cerbe- 
rus; that  we  ran  Cudworth's  risk  of  making,  by  excess 
of  candor,  the  argument  of  atheism  so  strong,  that  he 
could  not  answer  it.  I  have  no  fears  of  being  forced  in 
my  own  despite  to  play,  as  we  say,  the  devil's  attorney. 
I  have  no  infirmity  of  faith ;  no  belief  that  it  is  of  much 
importance  what  I  or  any  man  may  say :  I  am  sure  that  a 
certain  truth  will  be  said  through  me,  though  I  should  be 
dumb,  or  though  I  should  try  to  say  the  reverse.  Nor 
do  I  fear  scepticism  for  any  good  soul.  A  just  thinker 
will  allow  full  swing  to  his  scepticism.  I  dip  my  pen  in 
the  blackest  ink,  because  I  am  not  afraid  of  falling  into 
my  inkpot.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  a  poor  man  I 
knew,  who,  when  suicides  abounded,  told  me  he  dared 
not  look  at  his  razor.  We  are  of  different  opinions  at 
different  hours,  but  we  always  may  be  said  to  be  at  heart 
on  the  side  of  truth. 

I  see  not  why  we  should  give  ourselves  such  sanctified 
airs.  If  the  Divine  Providence  has  hid  from  men  neither 
disease,  nor  deformity,  nor  corrupt  society,  but  has  stated 


160  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

itself  out  in  passions,  in  war,  in  trade,  in  the  love  of 
power  and  pleasure,  in  hunger  and  need,  in  tyrannies, 
literatures,  and  arts, — let  us  not  be  so  nice  that  we 
cannot  write  these  facts  down  coarsely  as  they  stand, 
or  doubt  but  there  is  a  counter-statement  as  ponderous, 
which  we  can  arrive  at,  and  which,  being  put,  will  make 
all  square.  The  solar  system  has  no  anxiety  about  its 
reputation,  and  the  credit  of  truth  and  honesty  is  as  safe ; 
nor  have  I  any  fear  that  a  sceptical  bias  can  be  given  by 
leaning  hard  on  the  sides  of  fate,  of  practical  power,  or 
of  trade,  which  the  doctrine  of  Faith  cannot  down-weigh. 
The  strength  of  that  principle  is  not  measured  in  ounces 
and  pounds  ;  it  tyrannizes  at  the  centre  of  Nature.  We 
may  well  give  scepticism  as  much  line  as  we  can.  The 
spirit  will  return  and  fill  us.  It  drives  the  drivers.  It 
counterbalances  any  accumulations  of  power. 

"  Heaven  kindly  gave  our  blood  a  moral  flow." 

We  are  born  loyal.  The  whole  creation  is  made  of  hooks 
and  eyes,  of  bitumen,  of  sticking-plaster,  and  whether 
your  community  is  made  in  Jerusalem  or  in  California, 
of  saints  or  of  wreckers,  it  coheres  in  a  perfect  ball. 
Men  as  naturally  make  a  state,  or  a  church,  as  caterpil- 
lars a  web.  If  they  were  more  refined,  it  would  be  less 
formal,  it  would  be  nervous  like  that  of  the  Shakers, 
who,  from  long  habit  of  thinking  and  feeling  together,  it 
is  said,  are  affected  in  the  same  way,  at  the  same  time, 
to  work  and  to  play ;  and  as  they  go  with  perfect  sympa- 
thy to  their  tasks  in  the  field  or  shop,  so  are  they  inclined 
for  a  ride  or  a  journey  at  the  same  instant,  and  the  horses 
come  up  with  the  family  carriage  unbespoken  to  the  door. 


WORSHIP.  161 

We  are  born  believing.  A  man  bears  beliefs,  as  a  tree 
bears  apples.  A  self-poise  belongs  to  every  particle ;  and 
a  rectitude  to  every  mind,  and  is  the  Nemesis  and  pro- 
tector of  every  society.  I  and  my  neighbors  have  been 
bred  in  the  notion,  that,  unless  we  came  soon  to  some 
good  church,  —  Calvinism,  or  Behmenism,  or  Romanism, 
or  Mormonism,  —  there  would  be  a  universal  thaw  and 
dissolution.  No  Isaiah  or  Jeremy  has  arrived.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  anarchy  that  has  followed  in  our  skies. 
The  stern  old  taiths  have  all  pulverized.  'T  is  a  whole 
population  ot  gentlemen  and  ladies  out  in  search  of  re- 
ligions. 'T  is  as  flat  anarchy  in  our  ecclesiastic  realms, 
as  that  which  existed  in  Massachusetts,  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, or  which  prevails  now  on  the  slope  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  or  Pike's  Peak.  Yet  we  make  shift  to  live. 
Men  are  loyal.  Nature  has  self-poise  in  all  her  works ; 
certain  proportions  in  which  oxygen  and  azote  combine, 
and,  not  less  a  harmony  in  faculties,  a  fitness  in  the  spring 
and  the  regulator. 

The  decline  of  the  influence  of  Calvin,  or  Fenelon,  or 
Wesley,  or  Channiiig,  need  give  us  no  uneasiness.  The 
builder  of  heaven  has  not  so  ill  constructed  his  creature 
as  that  the  religion,  that  is,  the  public  nature,  should  fall 
out :  the  public  and  the  private  element,  like  north  and 
south,  like  inside  and  outside,  like  centrifugal  and  cen- 
tripetal, adhere  to  every  soul,  and  cannot  be  subdued,  ex- 
cept the  soul  is  dissipated.  God  builds  his  temple  in  the 
heart  on  the  ruins  of  churches  and  religions. 

In  the  last  chapters,  we  treated  some  particulars  of  the 
question  of  culture.  But  the  whole  state  of  man  is  a 
state  of  culture ;  and  its  flowering  and  completion  may 


162  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

be  described  as  Religion,  or  Worship.  There  is  always 
some  religion,  some  hope  and  fear  extended  into  the  in- 
visible, —  from  the  blind  boding  which  nails  a  horseshoe 
to  the  mast  or  the  threshold,  up  to  the  song  of  the  Elders 
in  the  Apocalypse.  But  the  religion  cannot  rise  above 
the  state  of  the  votary.  Heaven  always  bears  some  pro- 
portion to  earth.  The  god  of  the  cannibals  will  be  a 
cannibal,  of  the  crusaders  a  crusader,  and  of  the  mer- 
chants a  merchant.  In  all  ages,  souls  out  of  time,  extraor- 
dinary, prophetic,  are  born,  who  are  rather  related  to 
the  system  of  the  world,  than  to  their  particular  age  and 
locality.  These  announce  absolute  truths,  which,  with 
whatever  reverence  received,  are  speedily  dragged  down 
into  a  savage  interpretation.  The  interior  tribes  of  our 
Indians,  and  some  of  the  Pacific-Islanders,  flog  their 
gods,  when  things  take  an  unfavorable  turn.  The  Greek  , 
poets  did  not  hesitate  to  let  loose  their  petulant  wit  on 
their  deities  also.  Laomedon,  in  his  anger  at  Neptune 
and  Apollo,  who  had  built  Troy  for  him,  and  demanded 
their  price,  does  not  hesitate  to  menace  them  that  he  will 
cut  their  ears  off.*  Among  our  Norse  forefathers,  King 
Olaf s  mode  of  converting  Eyvind  to  Christianity  was 
to  put  a  pan  of  glowing  coals  on  his  belly,  which  burst 
asunder.  "  Wilt  thou  now,  Eyvind,  believe  in  Christ  ?  " 
asks  Olaf,  in  excellent  faith.  Another  argument  was  an 
adder  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  reluctant  disciple  Rand, 
who  refused  to  believe. 

Christianity,  in  the  romantic  ages,  signified  European 
culture,  —  the  grafted  or  meliorated  tree  in  a  crab  forest. 
And  to  marry  a  pagan  wife  or  husband  was  to  marry 

*  Iliad,  Uook  xxi.  1.  455. 


WORSHIP.  163 

Beast,  and  voluntarily  to  take  a  step  backwards  towards 
the  baboon. 

"  Hengist  had  verament, 
A  daughter  both  fair  and  gent, 
But  she  was  heathen  Sarazine, 
And  Vortigern  for  love  fine 
Her  took  to  fere  and  to  wife, 
And  was  cursed  in  all  his  life ; 
For  he  let  Christian  wed  heathen, 
And  mixed  our  blood  as  flesh  and  mathen."  * 

What  Gothic  mixtures  the  Christian  creed  drew  from  the 
pagan  sources,  Richard  of  Devizes's  chronicle  of  Richard 
I.'s  crusade,  in  the  twelfth  century,  may  show.  King 
Richard  taunts  God  with  forsaking  him  :  "  O  fie !  O, 
how  unwilling  should  I  be  to  forsake  tliee,  in  so  for- 
lorn and  dreadful  a  position,  were  I  thy  lord  and  advo- 
cate, as  thou  art  mine.  In  sooth,  my  standards  will  in 
future  be  despised,  not  through  my  fault,  but  through 
thine  ;  in  sooth,  not  through  any  cowardice  of  my  war- 
fare, art  thou  thyself,  my  king  and  my  God,  conquered 
this  day,  and  not  Richard  thy  vassal."  The  religion  of 
the  early  English  poets  is  anomalous,  so  devout  and  so 
blasphemous,  in  the  same  breath.  Such  is  Chaucer's  ex- 
traordinary confusion  of  heaven  and  earth  in  the  picture 

of  Dido. 

"  She  was  so  fair, 

So  young,  so  lusty,  with  her  eyen  glad, 
That  if  that  God  that  heaven  and  earthe  made 
Would  have  a  love  for  beauty  and  goodness, 
And  womanhede,  truth,  and  seemliness, 

*  Moths  or  worms. 


164  CONDUCT    OF    LITE. 

Whom  should  he  loven  hut  this  lady  sweet  ? 
There  n'  is  no  woman  to  him  half  so  meet." 

With  these  grossnesses,  we  complacently  compare  oui 
own  taste  and  decorum.  We  think  and  speak  with  more 
temperance  and  gradation,  -^-  but  is  not  indifferentism  as 
bad  as  superstition  ? 

We  live  in  a  transition  period,  when  the  old  faiths 
which  comforted  nations,  and  not  only  so,  but  made  na- 
tions, seem  to  have  spent  their  force.  I  do  not  find  the 
religious  of  men  at  this  moment  very  creditable  to  them, 
but  either  childish  and  insignificant,  or  unmanly  and  ef- 
feminating. The  fatal  trait  is  the  divorce  between  relig- 
ion and  morality.  Here  are  know-nothing  religions,  or 
churches  that  prescribe  intellect ;  scortatory  religious  ; 
slave-holding  and  slave-trading  religions ;  and,  even  in 
the  decent  populations,  idolatries  wherein  the  whiteness 
of  the  ritual  covers  scarlet  indulgence.  The  lover  of  the 
old  religion  complains  that  our  contemporaries,  scholars 
as  well  as  merchants,  succumb  to  a  great  despair,  —  have 
corrupted  into  a  timorous  conservatism,  and  believe  in 
nothing.  In  our  large  cities,  the  population  is  godless, 
materialized,  —  no  feond,  no  fellow-feeling,  no  enthusiasm. 
These  are  not  men,  but  hungers,  thirsts,  fevers,  and 
appetites  walking.  How  is  it  people  manage  to  live 
on,  —  so  aimless  as  they  are  ?  After  their  peppercorn 
aims  are  gained,  it  seems  as  if  the  lime  in  their  bones 
alone  held  them  together,  and  not  any  worthy  purpose. 
There  is  no  faith  in  the  intellectual,  none  in  the  moral 
universe.  There  is  faith  in  chemistry,  in  meat,  and  wine, 
in  wealth,  in  machinery,  in  the  steam-engine,  galvanic 
battery,  turbine-wheels,  sewing-machines,  and  in  public 


WORSHIP.  165 

opinion,  but  not  in  divine  causes.  A  silent  revolution 
has  loosed  the  tension  of  the  old  religious  sects,  and,  in 
place  of  the  gravity  and  permanence  of  those  societies 
of  opinion,  they  run  into  freak  and  extravagance.  In 
creeds  never  was  such  levity;  witness  the  heathenisms 
in  Christianity,  the  periodic  "  revivals,"  the  Millennium 
mathematics,  the  peacock  ritualism,  the  retrogression 
to  Popery,  the  maundering  of  Mormons,  the  squalor  of 
Mesmerism,  the  deliration  of  rappings,  the  rat  and  mouse 
revelation,  thumps  in  table-drawers,  and  black  art.  The 
architecture,  the  music,  the  prayer,  partake  of  the  mad- 
ness :  the  arts  sink  into  shift  and  make-believe.  Not 
knowing  what  to  do,  we  ape  our  ancestors ;  the  churches 
stagger  backward  to  the  mummeries  of  the  Dark  Ages. 
By  the  irresistible  maturing  of  the  general  mind,  the 
Christian  traditions  have  lost  their  hold.  The  dogma  of 
the  mystic  offices  of  Christ  being  dropped,  and  he  stand- 
ing on  his  genius  as  a  moral  teacher,  't  is  impossible  to 
maintain  the  old  emphasis  of  his  personality ;  and  it  re- 
cedes, as  all  persons  must,  before  the  sublimity  of  the 
moral  laws.  From  this  change,  and  in  the  momentary 
absence  of  any  religious  genius  that  could  offset  the 
immense  material  activity,  there  is  a  feeling  that  religion 
is  gone.  When  Paul  Leroux  offered  his  article  "  Dieu  " 
to  the  conductor  of  a  leading  Trench  journal,  he  replied, 
"  La  question  de  Dieu  manque  cTactualite."  In  Italy, 
Mr.  Gladstone  said  of  the  late  King  of  Naples,  "  It  has 
been  a  proverb,  that  he  has  erected  the  negation  of  God 
into  a  system  of  government."  In  this  country  the  like 
stupefaction  was  in  the  air,  and  the  phrase  "  higher  law  " 
became  a  political  gibe.  What  proof  of  infidelity,  like  the 


166  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

toleration  and  prop:igandism  of  slavery  ?  What,  like 
the  direction  of  education?  What,  like  the  facility  of 
conversion  ?  What,  like  the  externality  of  churches  that 
once  sucked  the  roots  of  right  and  wrong,  and  now  have 
perished  away  till  they  are  a  speck  of  whitewash  on  the 
wall?  What  proof  of  scepticism  like  the  base  rate  at 
which  the  highest  mental  and  moral  gifts  are  held  ?  Let 
a  man  attain  the  highest  and  broadest  culture  that  any 
American  lias  possessed,  then  let  him  die  by  sea-storm, 
railroad  collision,  or  other  accident,  and  all  America  will 
acquiesce  that  the  best  thing  has  happened  to  him ; 
that,  after  the  education  has  gone  far,  such  is  the  expen- 
siveness  of  America,  that  the  best  use  to  put  a  fine  person 
to  is,  to  drown  him  to  save  his  board. 

Another  scar  of  this  scepticism  is  the  distrust  in  hu- 
man virtue.  It  is  believed  by  well-dressed  proprietors 
that  there  is  no  more  virtue  than  they  possess ;  that  the 
solid  portion  of  society  exist  for  the  arts  of  comfort : 
that  life  is  an  affair  to  put  somewhat  between  the  upper 
and  lower  mandibles.  How  prompt  the  suggestion  of 
a  low  motive!  Certain  patriots  in  England  devoted 
themselves  for  years  to  creating  a  public  opinion  that 
should  break  down  the  corn-laws  and  establish  free  trade. 
"  Well,"  says  the  man  in  the  street,  "  Cobden  got  a  sti- 
pend out  of  it."  Kossuth  fled  hither  across  the  ocean 
to  try  if  he  could  rouse  the  New  World  to  a  sympathy 
with  European  liberty.  "  Ay,"  says  New  York,  "  he 
made  a  handsome  thing  of  it,  enough  to  make  him  com- 
fortable for  life." 

See  what  allowance  vice  finds  in  the  respectable  and 
well-conditioned  class.  If  a  pickpocket  intrude  into  the 


WORSHIP.  167 

society  of  gentlemen,  they  exert  what  moral  force  they 
have,  and  he  finds  himself  uncomfortable,  and  glad  to 
get  away.  But  if  an  adventurer  go  through  all  the 
forms,  procure  himself  to  be  elected  to  a  post  of  trust, 
as  of  senator,  or  president, —  though  by  the  same  arts  as 
we  detest  in  the  house-thief,  —  the  same  gentlemen,  who 
agree  to  discountenance  the  private  rogue,  will  be  for- 
ward to  show  civilities  and  marks  of  respect  to  the  public 
one  :  and  no  amount  of  evidence  of  his  crimes  will  pre- 
vent them  giving  him  ovations,  complimentary  dinners, 
opening  their  own  houses  to  him,  and  priding  themselves 
on  his  acquaintance.  We  were  not  deceived  by  the  pro- 
fessions of  the  private  adventurer,  —  the  louder  he  talked 
of  his  honor,  the  faster  we  counted  our  spoons ;  but  we 
appeal  to  tLe  sanctified  preamble  of  the  messages  and 
proclamations  of  the  public  sinner,  as  the  proof  of  sin- 
cerity. It  must  be  that  they  who  pay  this  homage  have 
said  to  themselves,  On  the  whole,  we  don't  know  about 
this  that  you  call  honesty ;  a  bird  in  the  hand  is  better. 

Even  well-disposed,  good  sort  of  people  are  touched 
with  the  same  infidelity,  and,  for  brave,  straightforward 
action,  use  half-measures  and  compromises.  Forgetful 
that  a  little  measure  is  a  great  error,  forgetful  that  a  wise 
mechanic  uses  a  sharp  tool,  they  go  on  choosing  the  dead 
men  of  routine.  But  the  official  men  can  in  no  wise  help 
you  in  any  question  of  to-day,  they  deriving  entirely  from 
the  old  dead  things.  Only  those  can  help  in  counsel  or 
conduct  who  did  not  make  a  party  pledge  to  defend  this 
or  that,  but  who  were  appointed  by  God  Almighty,  be- 
fore they  came  into  the  world,  to  stand  for  this  which 
they  uphold. 


168  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

It  lias  been  charged  that  a  want  of  sincerity  in  the 
leading  men  is  a  vice  general  throughout  American  so- 
ciety. But  the  multitude  of  the  sick  shall  not  make  us 
deny  the  existence  of  health.  In  spite  of  our  imbecility 
and  terrors,  and  "  universal  decay  of  religion,"  etc.,  etc., 
•  the  moral  sense  reappears  to-day  with  the  same  morning 
newness  that  has  been  from  of  old  the  fountain  of  beauty 
and  strength.'  You  say,  there  is  no  religion  now.  T  is 
like  saying  in  rainy  weather,  there  is  no  sun,  when  at 
that  moment  we  are  witnessing  one  of  his  superlative 
effects.  The  religion  of  the  cultivated  class  now,  to  be 
sure,  consists  in  an  avoidance  of  acts  and  engagements 
which  it  was  once  their  religion  to  assume.  But  this 
avoidance  will  yield  spontaneous  forms  in  their  due  hour. 
There  is  a  principle  which  is  the  basis  of  things,  which 
all  speech  aims  to  say,  and  all  action  to  evolve,  a  simple, 
quiet,  undescribed,  undescribable  presence,  dwelling  very 
peacefully  in  us,  our  rightful  lord ;  we  are  not  to  do, 
but  to  let  do  ;  not  to  work,  but  to  be  worked  upon  ;  and 
to  this  homage  there  is  a  consent  of  all  thoughtful  and 
just  men  in  all  ages  and  conditions.  To  this  sentiment 
belong  vast  and  sudden  enlargements  of  power.  'T  is 
remarkable  that  our  faith  in  ecstasy  consists  with  total 
inexperience  of  it.  It  is  the  order  of  the  world  to  edu- 
cate with  accuracy  the  senses  and  the  understanding; 
and  the  enginery  at  work  to  draw  out  these  powers  in 
priority,  no  doubt,  has  its  office.  But  we  are  never 
without  a  hint  that  these  powers  are  mediate  and  servile, 
and  that  we  are  one  day  to  deal  with  real  being,  —  es- 
sences with  essences.  Even  the  fury  of  material  activity 
has  some  results  friendly  to  moral  health.  The  energetic 


WORSHIP.  169 

,  action  of  the  times  develops  individualism,  and  the  re- 
ligious appear  isolated.  I  esteem  this  a  step  in  the  right 
direction.  Heaven  deals  with  us  on  no  representative 
system.  Souls  are  not  saved  in  bundles.  The  Spirit 
saith  to  the  man,  "  How  is  it  with  thee  ?  thee  personally  ? 
is  it  well  ?  is  it  ill  ?  "  For  a  great  nature,  it  is  a  happi- 
ness to  escape  a  religious  training,  —  religion  of  charac- 
ter is  so  apt  to  be  invaded.  Religion  must  always  be 
a  crab  fruit:  it  cannot  be  grafted  and  keep  its  wild 
beauty.  "  I  have  seen,"  said  a  traveller  who  had  known 
the  extremes  of  society,  —  "I  have  seen  human  nature 
in  all  its  forms,  it  is  everywhere  the  same,  but  the  wilder 
it  is,  the  more  virtuous." 

We  say,  the  old  forms  of  religion  decay,  and  that  a 
scepticism  devastates  the  community.  I  do  not  think  it 
can  be  cured  or  stayed  by  any  modification  of  theologic 
creeds,  much  less  by  theologic  discipline.  The  cure  for 
false  theology  is  mother-wit.  Forget  your  books  and  tra- 
ditions, and  obey  your  moral  perceptions  at  this  hour. 
That  which  is  signified  by  the  words  "  moral "  and 
"spiritual"  is  a  lasting  essence,  and,  with  whatever 
illusions  we  have  loaded  them,  will  certainly  bring  back 
the  words,  age  after  age,  to  their  ancient  meaning.  I 
know  no  words  that  mean  so  much.  In  our  definitions, 
we  grope  after  the  spiritual  by  describing  it  as  invisible. 
The  true  meaning  of  spiritual  is  real ;  that  law  which 
executes  itself,  which  works  without,  means,  and  which 
cannot  be  conceived  as  not  existing.  Men  talk  of  "  mere 
morality,"  —  which  is  much  as  if  one  should  say,  "  Poor 
God,  with  nobody  to  help  him."  I  find  the  omnipresence 
and  the  almiglitiness  in  I  he  reaction  of  every  atom  in 


170  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

nature.  I  can  best  indicate  by  examples  those  reactions 
by  which  every  part  of  nature  replies  to  the  purpose  of 
the  actor,  —  beneficently  to  the  good,  penally  to  the  bad. 
Let  us  replace  seutimentalism  by  realism,  and  dare  to  un- 
cover those  simple  and  terrible  laws,  which,  be  they  seen 
or  unseen,  pervade  and  govern. 

Every  man  takes  care  that  his  neighbor  shall  not  cheat 
him.  But  a  day  comes  when  he  begins  to  care  that  he 
do  not  cheat  his  neighbor.  Then  all  goes  well.  He  has 
changed  his  market-cart  into  a  chariot  of  the  sun.  What 
a  day  dawns,  when  we  have  taken  to  heart  the  doctrine 
of  faith  !  to  prefer,  as  a  better  investment,  being  to  do- 
ing ;  being  to  seeming ;  logic  to  rhythm  and  to  display ; 
the  year  to  the  day ;  the  life  to  the  year ;  character  to 
performance ;  —  and  have  come  to  know  that  justice  will 
be  done  us  ;  and,  if  our  genius  is  slow,  the  term  will  be 
long. 

'T  is  certain  that  worship  stands  in  some  commanding 
relation  to  the  health  of  man,  and  to  his  highest  powers, 
so  as  to  be,  in  some  manner,  the  source  of  intellect.  All 
the  great  ages  have  been  ages  of  belief.  I  mean,  when 
there  was  any  extraordinary  power  of  performance,  when 
great  national  movements  began,  when  arts  appeared, 
when  heroes  existed,  when  poems  were  made,  the  human 
soul  was  in  earnest,  and  had  fixed  its  thoughts  on  spirit- 
ual verities,  with  as  strict  a  grasp  as  that  of  the  hands  on 
the  sword,  or  the  pencil,  or  the  trowel.  It  is  true  that 
genius  takes  its  rise  out  of  the  mountains  of  rectitude  ; 
that  all  beauty  and  power  which  men  covet  are  somehow 
born  out  of  that  Alpine  district ;  that  any  extraordinary 
degree  of  beauty  in  man  or  woman  involves  a  moral 


WORSHIP.  171 

charm.  Thus,  I  think,  we  very  slowly  admit  in  another 
mau  a  higher  degree  of  moral  sentiment  than  our  own,  — 
a  finer  conscience,  more  impressionable,  or,  which  marks 
minuter  degrees ;  an  ear  to  hear  acuter  notes  of  right  and 
wrong,  than  we  can.  I  think  we  listen  suspiciously  and 
very  slowly  to  any  evidence  to  that  poiut.  But,  once 
satisfied  of  such  superiority,  we  set  no  limit  to  our  ex- 
pectation of  his  genius.  For  such  persons  are  nearer  to 
the  secret  of  God  than  others ;  are  bathed  by  sweeter 
waters ;  they  hear  notices,  they  see  visions,  where  others 
are  vacant.  We  believe  that  holiness  confers  a  certain 
insight,  because  not  by  our  private,  but  by  our  public 
force  can  we  share  and  know  the  nature  of  things. 

There  is  an  ultimate  interdependence  of  intellect  and 
morals.  Given  the  equality  of  two  intellects,  —  which 
will  form  the  most  reliable  judgments,  the  good,  or  the 
bad  hearted  ?  "  The  heart  has  its  arguments,  with 
which  the  understanding  is  not  acquainted."  Tor  the 
heart  is  at  once  aware  of  the  state  of  health  or  disease, 
which  is  the  controlling  state,  that  is,  of  sanity  or  of  in- 
sanity, prior,  of  course,  to  all  question  of  the  ingenuity 
of  arguments,  the  amount  of  facts,  or  the  elegance  of 
rhetoric.  So  intimate  is  this  alliance  of  mind  and  heart, 
that  talent  uniformly  sinks  with  character.  The  bias  of 
errors  of  principle  carries  away  men  into  perilous  courses, 
as  soon  as  their  will  does  not  .control  their  passion  or  tal- 
ent. Hence  the  extraordinary  blunders,  and  final  wrong 
head,  into  which  men  spoiled  by  ambition  usually  fall. 
Hence  the  remedy  for  all  blunders,  the  cure  of  blindness, 
the  cure  of  crime,  is  love.  "As  much  love,  so  much 
mind,"  said  the  Latin  proverb.  The  superiority  that  has 


172  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

no  superior ;  the  redeemer  and  instructor  of  souls,  as 
it  is  their  primal  essence,  is  love. 

The  moral  must  be  the  measure  of  health.  If  your  eye 
/  is  on  the  eternal,  your  intellect  will  grow,  and  your  opin- 
ions and  actions  will  have  a  beauty  which  no  learning  or 
combined  advantages  of  other  men  can  rival.  The  mo- 
ment of  your  loss  of  faith,  and  acceptance  of  the  lucrative 
standard,  will  be  marked  in  the  pause,  or  solstice  of  gen- 
ius, the  sequent  retrogression,  and  the  inevitable  loss  of 
attraction  to  other  minds.  The  vulgar  are  sensible  of  the 
change  in  you,  and  of  your  descent,  though  they  clap  you 
on  the  back,  and  congratulate  you  on  your  increased 
common-sense. 

Our  recent  culture  has  been  in  natural  science.  We 
have  learned  the  manners  of  the  sun  and  of  the  moon,  of 
the  rivers  and  the  rains,  of  the  mineral  and  elemental 
kingdoms,  of  plants  and  animals.  Man  has  learned  to 
weigh  the  sun,  and  its  weight  neither  loses  nor  gains. 
The  path  of  a  star,  the  moment  of  an  eclipse,  can  be  de- 
termined to  the  fraction  of  a  second.  Well,  to  him  the 
book  of  history,  the  book  of  love,  the  lures  of  passion, 
and  the  commandments  of  duty  are  opened;  and  the 
next  lesson  taught  is,  the  continuation  of  the  inflexible 
law  of  matter  into  the  subtile  kingdom  of  will,  and  of 
thought ;  that,  if,  in  sidereal  ages,  gravity  and  projection 
keep  their  craft,  and  the  ball  never  loses  its  way  in  its 
wild  path  through  space,  —  a  secreter  gravitation,  a 
secreter  projection,  rule  not  less  tyrannically  in  human 
history,  and  keep  the  balance  of  power  from  age  to  age 
unbroken.  For,  though  the  new  element  of  freedom  and 
an  individual  has  been  admitted,  yet  the  primordial  atoms 


WORSHIP.  173 

are  prefigured  and  predetermined  to  moral  issues,  are  in 
search  of  justice,  and  ultimate  right  is  done.  Religion 
or  worship  is  the  attitude  of  those  who  see  this  unity, 
intimacy,  and  sincerity;  who  see  that,  against  all  appear- 
ances, the  nature  of  things  works  for  truth  and  right 
forever. 

'T  is  a  short  sight  to  limit  our  faith  in  laws  to  those  of 
gravity,  of  chemistry,  of  botany,  and  so  forth.  Those 
laws  do  not  stop  where  our  eyes  lose  them,  but  push  the 
,  same  geometry  and  chemistry  up  into  the  invisible  plane 
of  social  and  rational  life,  so  that,  look  where  we  will,  in 
a  boy's  game,  or  in  the  strifes  of  races,  a  perfect  reaction, 
a  perpetual  judgment,  keeps  watch  and  ward.  And  this 
appears  in  a  class  of  facts  which  concerns  all  men,  within 
and  above  their  creeds. 

Shallow  men  believe  in  luck,  believe  in  circumstances  : 
It  was  somebody's  name,  or  he  happened  to  be  there  at 
the  time,  or,  it  was  so  then,  and  another  day  it  would 
have  been  otherwise.  Strong  men  believe  in  cause  and 
effect.  The  man  was  born  to  do  it,  and  his  father  was 
born  to  be  the  father  of  him  and  of  this  deed,  and,  by 
looking  narrowly,  you  shall  see  there  was  no  luck  in  the 
matter,  but  it  was  all  a  problem  in  arithmetic,  or  an  ex- 
periment in  chemistry.  The  curve  of  the  flight  of  the 
moth  is  preordained,  and  all  things  go  by  number,  rule, 
and  weight. 

Scepticism  is  unbelief  in  cause  and  effect.  A  man 
does  not  see,  that,  as  he  eats,  so  he  thinks  :  as  he  deals, 
so  he  is,  and  so  he  appears ;  he  does  not  see,  that  his  son 
is  the  son  of  his  thoughts  and  of  his  actions;  that  for- 
tunes are  not  exceptions,  but  fruits ;  that  relation  and 


174  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

connection  are  not  somewhere  and  sometimes,  but  every- 
where and  always ;  no  miscellany,  no  exemption,  no  anom- 
aly, —  but  method,  and  an  even  web ;  and  what  comes 
out,  that  was  put  in.  As  we  are,  so  we  do ;  and  as  we 
do,  so  is  it  done  to  us ;  we  are  the  builders  of  our  for- 
tunes ;  cant  and  lying  and  the  attempt  to  secure  a  good 
which  does  not  belong  to  us,  are,  once  for  all,  balked  and 
vain.  But,  in  the  human  mind  this  tie  of  faith  is  made 
alive.  The  law  is  the  basis  of  the  human  mind.  In  us, 
it  is  inspiration;  out  there  in  Nature,  we  see  its  fatal 
strength.  We  call  it  the  moral  sentiment. 

We  owe  to  the  Hindoo  Scriptures  a  definition  of  Law, 
which  compares  well  with  any  in  our  Western  books. 
"Law  it  is,  which  is  without  name,  or  color,  or  hands, 
or  feet ;  which  is  smallest  of  the  least,  and  largest  of  the 
large  :  all,  and  knowing  all  things ;  which  hears  without 
ears,  sees  without  eyes,  moves  without  feet,  and  seizes 
without  hands." 

If  any  reader  tax  me  with  using  vague  and  traditional 
phrases,  let  me  suggest  to  him,  by  a  few  examples,  what 
kind  of  a  trust  this  is,  and  how  real.  Let  me  show  him 
that  the  dice  are  loaded ;  that  the  colors  are  fast,  because 
they  are  the  native  colors  of  the  fleece  ;  that  the  globe  is 
a  battery,  because  every  atom  is  a  magnet ;  and  that  the 
police  and  sincerity  of  the  Universe  are  secured  by  God's 
delegating  his  divinity  to  every  particle ;  that  there  is  no 
room  for  hypocrisy,  no  margin  for  choice. 

The  countryman  leaving  his  native  village,  for  the  first 
time,  and  going  abroad,  finds  all  his  habits  broken  up. 
In  a  new  nation  and  language,  his  sect,  as  Quaker,  or 
Lulheran,  is  lost.  What!  it  is  not  then  necessary  to  the 


WORSHIP.  175 

order  and  existence  of  society  ?  He  misses  this,  and  the 
commanding  eye  of  his  neighborhood,  which  held  him  to 
decorum.  This  is  the  peril  of  New  York,  of  New  Or- 
leans, of  London,  of  Paris,  to  young  men.  But  after  a 
little  experience,  he  makes  the  discovery  that  there  are 
no  large  cities,  —  none  large  enough  to  hide  in ;  that  the 
censors  of  action  are  as  numerous  and  as  near  in  Paris, 
as  in  Littleton  or  Portland ;  that  the  gossip  is  as  prompt 
and  vengeful.  There  is  no  concealment,  and,  for  each 
offence,  a  several  vengeance ;  that,  reaction,  or  nothing 
for  nothing,  or,  things  are  as  broad  as  they  are  long,  is 
not  a  rule  for  Littleton  or  Portland,  but  for  the  Uni- 
verse. 

We  cannot  spare  the  coarsest  muniment  of  virtue. 
We  are  disgusted  by  gossip  ;  yet  it  is  of  importance  to 
keep  the  angels  in  their  proprieties.  The  smallest  fly 
will  draw  blood,  and  gossip  is  a  weapon  impossible  to 
exclude  from  the  privatest,  highest,  selectest.  Nature 
created  a  police  of  many  ranks.  God  has  delegated  him- 
self to  a  million  deputies.  From  these  low  external  pen- 
alties, the  scale  ascends.  Next  come  the  resentments, 
the  fears,  which  injustice  calls  out;  then,  the  false  rela- 
tions in  which  the  offender  is  put  to  other  men ;  and  the 
reaction  of  his  fault  on  himself,  in  the  solitude  and  dev- 
astation of  his  mind. 

You  cannot  hide  any  secret.  If  the  artist  succor  his 
flagging  spirits  by  opium  or  wine,  his  work  will  charac- 
terize itself  as  the  effect  of  opium  or  wine.  If  you  make 
a  picture  or  a  statue,  it  sets  the  beholder  in  that  state  of 
mind  you  had,  when  you  made  it.  If  you  spend  for* 
show,  on  building,  or  gardening,  or  on  pictures,  or  on 


176  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

equipages,  it  will  so  appear.  We  are  all  physiognomists 
and  penetrators  of  character,  and  things  themselves  are 
detective.  If  you  follow  the  suburban  fashion  in  build- 
ing a  sumptuous-looking  house  for  a  little  money,  it  will 
appear  to  all  eyes  as  a  cheap  dear  house.  There  is  no 
privacy  that  cannot  be  penetrated.  No  secret  can  be 
kept  in  the  civilized  world.  Society  is  a  masked  ball, 
where  every  one  hides  his  real  character,  and  reveals  it 
by  hiding.  If  a  man  wish  to  conceal  anything  he  car- 
ries, those  whom  he  meets  know  that  he  conceals  some- 
what, and  usually  know  what  he  conceals.  Is  it  other- 
wise if  there  be  some  belief  or  some  purpose  he  would 
bury  in  his  breast  ?  'T  is  as  hard  to  hide  as  fire.  He 
is  a  strong  man  who  can  hold  down  his  opinion.  A  man 
cannot  utter  two  or  three  sentences,  without  disclosing 
to  intelligent  ears  precisely  where  he  stands  in  life  and 
thought,  namely,  whether  in  the  kingdom  of  the  sense! 
and  the  understanding,  or,  in  that  of  ideas  and  imaging 
tion,  in  the  realm  of  intuitions  and  duty.  People  seem 
not  to  see  that  their  opinion  of  the  world  is  also  a  con- 
fession of  character.  We  can  only  see  what  we  are,  and 
if  we  misbehave  we  suspect  others.  The  fame  of  Shake- 
speare or  of  Voltaire,  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  or  of  Bona- 
parte, characterizes  those  who  give  it.  As  gaslight  is 
found  to  be  the  best  nocturnal  police,  so  the  universe 
protects  itself  by  pitiless  publicity. 

Each  must  be  armed,  —  not  necessarily  with  musket 
and  pike.  Happy,  if,  seeing  these,  he  can  feel  that  he 
has  better  muskets  and  pikes  in  his  energy  and  con- 
stancy. To  every  creature  is  his  own  weapon,  however 
skilfully  concealed  from  himself,  a  good  while.  His 


WORSHIP.  177 

•work  is  sword  and  shield.  Let  him  accuse  none,  let  him 
injure  none.  The  way  to  mend  the  bad  world  is  to  cre- 
1  ate  the  right  world.  Here  is  a  low  political  economy 
plotting  to  cut  the  throat  of  foreign  competition,  and  es- 
tablish our  own ;  excluding  others  by  force,  or  making 
war  on  them ;  or,  by  cunning  tariffs,  giving  preference  to 
worse  wares  of  ours.  But  the  real  and  lasting  victories 
are  those  of  peace,  and  not  of  war.  The  way  to  conquer 
the  foreign  artisan  is,  not  to  kill  him,  but  to  beat  his 
work.  And  the  Crystal  Palaces  and  World  Fairs,  with 
their  committees  and  prizes  on  all  kinds  of  industry,  are 
the  result  of  this  feeling.  The  American  workman  who 
strikes  ten  blows  with  his  hammer,  whilst  the  foreign 
workman  only  strikes  one,  is  as  really  vanquishing  that 
foreigner,  as  if  the  blows  were  aimed  at  and  told  on  his 
person.  I  look  on  that  man  as  happy,  who,  when  there 
is  question  of  success,  looks  into  his  work  for  a  reply, 
not  into  the  market,  not  into  opinion,  not  into  patron- 
age. In  every  variety  of  human  employment,  in  the  me- 
chanical and  in  the  fine  arts,  in  navigation,  in  farming,  in 
legislating,  there  are  among  the  numbers  who  do  their 
task  perfunctorily,  as  we  say,  or  just  to  pass,  and  as  badly 
as  they  dare,  —  there  are  the  workingmen,  on  whom  the 
burden  of  the  business  falls,  —  those  who  love  work,  and 
love  to  see  it  rightly  done,  who  finish  their  task  for  its 
own  sake;  and  the  state  and  the  world  is  happy,  that 
has  the  most  of  such  finishers.  The  world  will  always 
do  justice  at  last  to  such  finishers  :  it  cannot  otherwise. 
He  who  has  acquired  the  ability  may  wait  securely  the 
occasion  of  making  it  felt  and  appreciated,  and  know 
that  it  will  not  loiter.  Men  talk  as  if  victory  were  some- 
8*  L 


178  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

thing  fortunate.  Work  is  victory.  Wherever  work  is 
done,  victory  is  obtained.  There  is  no  chance,  and  no 
blanks.  You  want  but  one  verdict :  if  you  have  your 
own,  you  are  secure  of  the  rest.  And  yet,  if  witnesses 
are  wanted,  witnesses  are  near.  There  was  never  a  man 
born  so  wise  or  good,  but  one  or  more  companions  came 
into  the  world  with  him,  who  delight  in  his  faculty  and 
report  it.  I  cannot  see  without  awe,  that  no  man  thinks 
alone,  and  no  man  acts  alone,  but  the  divine  assessors 
who  came  up  with  him  into  life,  —  now  under  one  dis- 
guise, now  under  another,  —  like  a  police  in  citizens' 
clothes,  walk  with  him,  step  for  step,  through  the  king- 
dom of  time. 

This  reaction,  this  sincerity,  is  the  property  of  all 
things.  To  make  our  word  or  act  sublime,  we  must 
make  it  real.  It  is  our  system  that  counts,  not  the 
single  word  or  unsupported  action.  Use  what  language 
you  will,  you  can  never  say  anything  but  what  you  are. 
What  I  am,  and  what  I  think,  is  conveyed  to  you,  in 
spite  of  my  efforts  to  hold  it  back.  What  I  am,  has 
been  secretly  conveyed  from  me  to  another,  whilst  I  was 
vainly  making  up  my  mind  to  tell  him  it.  He  has  heard 
from  me  what  I  never  spoke. 

As  men  get  on  in  life,  they  acquire  a  love  for  sincerity, 
and  somewhat  less  solicitude  to  be  lulled  or  amused.  In 
the  progress  of  the  character,  there  is  an  increasing 
faith  in  the  moral  sentiment,  and  a  decreasing  faith  in 
propositions.  Young  people  admire  talents  and  particular 
excellences.  As  we  grow  older,  we  value  total  powers 
and  effects,  as  the  spirit  or  quality  of  the  man.  We  have 
another  sight,  and  a  new  standard  ;  an  insight  which  dis- 


WORSHIP.  179 

regards  what  1 5  done  for  the  eye,  and  pierces  to  the  doer ; 
an  ear  which  hears  not  what  men  say,  but  hears  what 
they  do  not  say. 

There  was  a  wise,  devout  man  who  is  called,  in  the 
Catholic  Church,  St.  Philip  Neri,  of  whom  many  anec- 
dotes touching  his  discernment  and  benevolence  are  told 
at  Naples  and  Rome.  Among  the  nuns  in  a  convent  not 
far  from  Rome,  one  had  appeared,  who  laid  claim  to 
certain  rare  gifts  of  inspiration  and  prophecy,  and  the 
abbess  advised  the  Holy  Father,  at  Rome,  of  the  wonder- 
ful powers  shown  by  her  novice.  The  Pope  did  not  well 
know  what*fco  make  of  these  new  claims,  and  Philip  com- 
ing in  from  a  journey,  one  day,  he  consulted  him.  Philip 
undertook  to  visit  the  nun,  and  ascertain  her  character. 
He  threw  himself  on  his  mule,  all  travel-soiled  as  he  was, 
and  hastened  through  the  mud  and  mire  to  the  distant 
convent.  He  told  the  abbess  the  wishes  of  his  Holiness, 
and  begged  her  to  summon  the  nun  without  delay.  The 
nun  was  sent  for,  and,  as  soon  as  she  came  into  the 
apartment,  Philip  stretched  out  his  leg  all  bespattered 
with  mud,  and  desired  her  to  draw  off  his  boots.  The 
young  nun,  who  had  become  the  object  of  much  attention 
and  respect,  drew  back  with  anger,  and  refused  the  office : 
Philip  ran  out  of  doors,  mounted  his  mule,  and  returned, 
instantly  to  the  Pope  :  "  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness, 
Holy  Father,  any  longer :  here  is  no  miracle,  for  here  is 
no  humility." 

We  need  not  much  mind  what  people  please  to  say, 
but  what  they  must  say ;  what  their  natures  say  though 
their  busy,  artful,  Yankee  understandings  try  to  hold 
back,  and  choke  that  word,  and  to  articulate  something 


180  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

different.  If  we  will  sit  quietly, —  what  they  ought  to 
say  is  said,  with  their  will,  or  against  their  will.  We  do 
not  care  for  you,  let  us  pretend  what  we  will ;  —  we  are 
always  looking  through  you  to  the  dim  dictator  behind 
you.  Whilst  your  habit  or  whim  chatters,  we  civilly  and 
impatiently  wait  until  that  wise  superior  shall  speak 
again.  Even  children  are  not  deceived  by  the  false 
reasons  which  their  parents  give  in  answer  to  their 
questions,  whether  touching  natural  facts,  or  religion,  or 
persons.  When  the  parent,  instead  of  thinking  how  it 
really  is,  puts  them  off  with  a  traditional  or  a  hypocriti- 
cal answer,  the  children  perceive  that  it  is  traditional  or 
hypocritical.  To  a  sound  constitution  the  defect  of  an- 
other is  at  once  manifest ;  and  the  marks  of  it  are  only 
concealed  from  us  by  our  own  dislocation.  An  anatomical 
observer  remarks  that  the  sympathies  of  the  chest,  abdo- 
men, and  pelvis  tell  at  last  on  the  face,  and  on  all  its  fea- 
tures. Not  only  does  our  beauty  waste,  but  it  leaves 
word  how  it  went  to  waste.  Physiognomy  and  phre- 
nology are  not  new  sciences,  but  declarations  of  the  soul 
that  it  is  aware  of  certain  new  sources  of  information. 
And  now  sciences  of  broader  scope  are  starting  up  be- 
hind these.  And  so  for  ourselves,  it  is  really  of  little 
importance  what  blunders  in  statement  we  make,  so  only 
we  make  no  wilful  departures  from  the  truth.  How  a 
man's  truth  comes  to  mind,  long  after  we  have  forgotten 
all  his  words  !  How  il.  comes  to  us  in  silent  hours,  that 
truth  is  our  only  armor  in  all  passages  of  life  and  death  ! 
Wit  is  cheap,  and  anger  is  cheap ;  but  if  you  cannot 
argue  or  explain  yourself  to  the  other  party,  cleave  to 
the  truth  against  me,  against  tliee,  and  you  gain  a  station 


WORSHIP.  181 

from  which  you  cannot  be  dislodged.  The  other  party 
will  forget  the  words  that  you  spoke,  but  the  part  you 
took  continues  to  plead  for  you. 

Why  should  I  hasten  to  solve  every  riddle  which  life 
offers  me  ?  I  am  well  assured  that  the  Questioner,  who 
brings  me  so  many  problems,  will  bring  the  answers  also 
in  due  time.  Very  rich,  very  potent,  very  cheerful 
Giver  that  he  is,  he  shall  have  it  all  his  own  way  for 
me.  Why  should  I  give  up  my  thought,  because  I 
cannot  answer  an  objection  to  it  ?  Consider  only  whether 
it  remains  in  my  life  the  same  it  was.  That  only  which 
we  have  within,  can  we  see  without.  If  we  meet  no 
gods,  it  is  because  we  harbor  none.  If  there  is  gran- 
deur in  you,  you  will  find  grandeur  in  porters  and 
sweeps.  He  only  is  rightly  immortal,  to  whom  all 
things  are  immortal.  I  have  read  somewhere  that  none 
is  accomplished,  so  long  as  any  are  incomplete  ;  that  the 
happiness  of  one  cannot  consist  with  the  misery  of  any 
other. 

The  Buddhists  say,  "  No  seed  will  die  "  ;  every  seed 
will  grow.  Where  is  the  service  which  can  escape  its 
remuneration  ?  What  is  vulgar,  and  the  essence  of  all 
vulgarity,  but  the  avarice  of  reward  ?  'T  is  the  differ- 
ence of  artisan  and  artist,  of  talent  and  genius,  of  sinner 
and  saint.  The  man  whose  eyes  are  nailed,  not  on  the 
nature  of  his  act,  but  on  the  wages,  whether  it  be  money, 
or  office,  or  fame,  is  almost  equally  low.  He  is  great, 
whose  eyes  are  opened  to  see  that  the  reward  of  actions 
cannot  be  escaped,  because  he  is  transformed  into  his 
action,  and  taketh  its  nature,  which  bears  its  own  fruit, 
like  every  other  tree.  A  great  man  cannot  be  hindered 


182  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

of  the  effect  of  his  act,  because  it  is  immediate.  The 
genius  of  life  is  friendly  to  the  noble,  and  in  the  dark 
brings  them  friends  from  far.  Tear  God,  and  where 
you  go,  men  shall  think  they  walk  iu  hallowed  cathe- 
drals. 

And  so  I  look  on  those  sentiments  which  make  the 
glory  of  the  human  being,  love,  humility,  faith,  as  being 
also  the  intimacy  of  Divinity  in  the  atoms ;  and,  that, 
as  soon  as  the  man  is  right,  assurances  and  previsions 
emanate  from  the  interior  of  his  body  and  his  mind ;  as, 
when  flowers  reach  their  ripeness,  incense  exhales  from 
them,  and,  as  a  beautiful  atmosphere  is  generated  from 
the  planet  by  the  averaged  emanations  from  all  its  rocks 
and  soils. 

Thus  man  is  made  equal  to  every  event.  He  can  face 
danger  for  the  right.  A  poor,  tender,  painful  body,  he 
can  run  into  flame  or  bullets  or  pestilence,  with  duty  for 
his  guide.  He  feels  the  insurance  of  a  just  employment. 
I  arn  not  afraid  of  accident,  as  long  as  I  am  in  my  place. 
It  is  strange  that  superior  persons  should  not  feel  that 
they  have  some  better  resistance  against  cholera,  than 
avoiding  green  peas  and  salads.  Life  is  hardly  respect- 
able, —  is  it  ?  if  it  has  no  generous,  guaranteeing  task, 
no  duties  or  affections,  that  constitute  a  necessity  of 
existing.  Every  man's  task  is  his  life-preserver.  The 
conviction  that  his  work  is  dear  to  God  and  cannot  be 
spared,  defends  Him.  The  lightning-rod  that  disarms  the 
cloud  of  its  threat  is  his  body  in  its  duty.  A  high  aim 
reacts  on  the  means,  on  the  days,  on  the  organs  of  the 
body.  A  high  aim  is  curative,  as  well  as  arnica.  "  Na- 
poleon," says  Goethe,  "  visited  those  sick  of  the  plague, 


WORSHIP.  183 

in  order  to  prove  that  the  man  who  could  vanquish  fear, 
could  vanquish  the  plague  also ;  and  he  was  right.  'T  is 
incredible  what  force  the  will  has  in  such  cases:  it 
penetrates  the  body,  and  puts  it  in  a  state  of  activity, 
which  repels  all  hurtful  influences ;  whilst  fear  invites 
them." 

It  is  related  of  William  of  Orange,  that,  whilst  he  was 
besieging  a  town  on  the  continent,  a  gentleman  sent  to 
him  on  public  business  came  to  his  camp,  and,  learning 
that  the  King  was  before  the  walls,  he  ventured  to  go 
where  he  was.  He  found  him  directing  the  operation 
of  his  gunners,  and,  having  explained  his  errand,  and 
received  his  answer,  the  King  said  :  "  Do  you  not  know, 
sir,  that  every  moment  you  spend  here  is  at  the  risk  of 
your  life  ?  "  "I  run  no  more  risk,"  replied  the  gentleman, 
"  than  your  Majesty."  "  Yes,"  said  the  King,  "  but  my 
duty  brings  me  here,  and  yours  does  not."  In  a  few 
minutes,  a  cannon-ball  fell  on  the  spot,  and  the  gentle- 
man was  killed. 

Thus  can  the  faithful  student  reverse  all  the  warnings 
of  his  early  instinct,  under  the  guidance  of  a  deeper 
instinct.  He  learns  to  welcome  misfortune,  learns  that 
adversity  is  the  prosperity  of  the  great.  He  learns  the 
greatness  of  humility.  He  shall  work  in  the  dark,  work 
against  failure,  pain,  and  ill-will.  If  he  is  insulted,  he 
can  be  insulted;  all  his  affair  is  not  to  insult.  Hafiz 
writes :  — 

At  the  last  day,  men  shall  wear 

On  their  heads  the  dust, 

As  ensign  and  as  ornament 

Of  their  lowly  trust. 


181  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

The  moral  equalizes  all ;  enriches,  empowers  all.  It 
is  the  coin  which  buys  all,  and  which  all  find  in  their 
pocket.  Under  the  whip  of  the  driver,  the  slave  shall 
feel  his  equality  with  saints  and  heroes.  In  the  greatest 
destitution  and  calamity,  it  surprises  man  with  a  feeling 
of  elasticity  which  makes  nothing  of  loss. 

I  recall  some  traits  of  a  remarkable  person  whose  life 
and  discourse  betrayed  many  inspirations  of  this  senti- 
ment. Benedict  was  always  great  in  the  present  time. 
He  had  hoarded  nothing  from  the  past,  neither  in  his 
cabinets,  neither  in  his  memory.  He  had  no  designs  on 
the  future,  neither  for  what  he  should  do  to  men,  nor  for 
what  men  should  do  for  him.  He  said :  "  I  am  never 
beaten  until  I  know  that  I  am  beaten.  I  meet  powerful 
brutal  people  to  whom  I  have  no  skill  to  reply.  They 
think  they  have  defeated  me.  It  is  so  published  in 
society,  in  the  journals ;  I  am  defeated  in  this  fashion, 
in  all  men's  sight,  perhaps  on  a  dozen  different  lines. 
My  ledger  may  show  that  I  am  in  debt,  cannot  yet  make 
my  ends  meet,  and  vanquish  the  enemy  so.  My  race  may 
not  be  prospering :  we  are  sick,  ugly,  obscure,  unpopu- 
lar. My  children  may  be  worsted.  I  seem  to  fail  in 
my  friends  and  clients,  too.  That  is  to  say,  in  all  the  en- 
counters that  have  yet  chanced,  I  have  not  been  weap- 
oned  for  that  particular  occasion,  and  have  been  his- 
torically beaten ;  and  yet,  I  know,  all  the  time,  that  I 
have  never  been  beaten  ;  have  never  yet  fought,  shall  cer- 
tainly fight,  when  my  hour  comes,  and  shall  beat."  c  A 
man,'  says  the  Vishnu  Sarma,  '  who  having  well  com- 
pared his  own  strength  or  weakness  with  that  of  others, 
after  all  doth  not  know  the  difference,  is  easily  overcome 
by  his  enemies.' 


WORSHIP.  185 

"  I  spent,"  he  said,  "  ten  months  in  the  country. 
Thick-starred  Orion  was  my  only  companion.  Wherever 
a  squirrel  or  a  bee  can  go  with  security,  I  can  go.  I  ate 
whatever  was  set  before  me ;  I  touched  ivy  and  dogwood. 
When  I  went  abroad,  I  kept  company  with  every  man  on 
the  road,  for  I  knew  that  my  evil  and  my  good  did  not 
come  from  these,  but  from  the  Spirit,  whose  servant  I 
was.  For  I  could  not  stoop  to  be  a  circumstance,  as 
they  did,  who  put  their  life  into  their  fortune  and  their 
company.  I  would  not  degrade  myself  by  casting  about 
in  my  memory  for  a  thought,  nor  by  waiting  for  one. 
If  the  thought  come,  I  would  give  it  entertainment. 
It  should,  as  it  ought,  go  into  my  hands  and  feet ;  but  if 
it  come  not  spontaneously,  it  comes  not  rightly  at  all.  If 
it  can  spare  me,  I  am  sure  I  can  spare  it.  It  shall  be 
the  same  with  my  friends.  I  will  never  woo  the  loveliest. 
I  will  not  ask  any  friendship  or  favor.  When  I  come 
to  my  own,  we  shall  both  know  it.  Nothing  will  be  to 
be  asked  or  to  be  granted."  Benedict  went  out  *o  seek 
his  friend,  and  met  him  on  the  way ;  but  he  expressed 
no  surprise  at  any  coincidences.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
he  called  at  the  door  of  his  friend,  and  he  was  not  at 
home,  he  did  not  go  again  ;  concluding  that  he  had  mis- 
interpreted the  intimations. 

He  had  the  whim  not  to  make  an  apology  to  the  same 
individual  whom  he  had  wronged.  For  this,  he  said,  was 
a  piece  of  personal  vanity;  but  he  would  correct  his  con- 
duct in  that  respect  in  which  he  had  faulted,  to  the  next 
person  he  should  meet.  Thus,  he  said,  universal  justice 
was  satisfied. 

Mira  came  to  ask  what  she  should  do  with  the  poor 


186  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Geuesee  woman  who  bad  hired  herself  to  work  for  her, 
at  a  shilling  a  day,  and,  now  sickening,  was  like  to  be 
bedridden  on  her  hands.  Should  she  keep  her,  or  should 
she  dismiss  her  ?  But  Benedict  said,  "  Why  ask  ?  One 
thing  will  clear  itself  as  the  thing  to  be  done,  and  not 
another,  when  the  hour  comes.  Is  it  a  question,  whether 
to  put  her  into  the  street.  Just  as  much  whether  to 
thrust  the  little  Jenny  on  your  arm  into  the  street.  The 
milk  and  meal  you  give  the  beggar  will  fatten  Jenny. 
Thrust  the  woman  out,  and  you  thrust  your  babe  out  of 
doors,  whether  it  so  seem  to  you  or  not." 

In  the  Shakers,  so  called,  I  find  one  piece  of  belief,  in 
the  doctrine  which  they  faithfully  hold,  that  encourages 
them  to  open  their  doors  to  every  wayfaring  man  who 
proposes  to  come  among  them  ;  for,  they  say,  the  Spirit 
will  presently  manifest  to  the  man  himself,  and  to  the 
society,  what  manner  of  person  he  is,  and  whether  he 
belongs  among  them.  They  do  not  receive  him,  they  do 
not  reject  him.  And  not  in  vain  have  they  worn  their 
clay  coat,  and  drudged  in  their  fields,  and  shuffled  in  their 
bruin  dance,  from  year  to  year,  if  they  have  truly  learned 
thus  much  wisdom. 

Honor  him  whose  life  is  perpetual  victory ;  him,  who, 
by  sympathy  with  the  invisible  and  real,  finds  support  in 
labor,  instead  of  praise  :  who  does  not  shine,  and  would 
rather  not.  With  eyes  open,  he  makes  the  choice  of 
virtue,  which  outrages  the  virtuous ;  of  religion,  which 
churches  stop  their  discords  to  burn  and  exterminate  : 
for  the  highest  virtue  is  always  against  the  law. 

Miracle  cotnes  to  the  miraculous,  not  to  the  arithme- 
tician. Talent  and  success  interest  me  but  moderately. 


WORSHIP.  187 

The  great  class,  they  who  affect  our  imagination,  the  men 
who  could  not  make  their  hands  meet  around  their  ob- 
jects, the  rapt,  the  lost,  the  fools  of  ideas,  —  they  suggest 
what  they  cannot  execute.  They  speak  to  the  ages,  and 
are  heard  from  afar.  The  Spirit  does  not  love  cripples 
and  malformations.  If  there  ever  was  a  good  man,  be 
certain  there  was  another,  and  will  be  more. 

And  so  in  relation  to  that  future  hour,  that  spectre 
clothed  with  beauty  at  our  curtain  by  night,  at  our  table 
by  day,  —  the  apprehension,  the  assurance  of  a  coming 
change.  The  race  of  mankind  have  always  offered  at 
least  this  implied  thanks  for  the  gift  of  existence,  — 
namely,  the  terror  of  its  being  taken  away ;  the  insatiable 
curiosity  and  appetite  for  its  continuation.  The  whole 
revelation  that  is  vouchsafed  us  is,  the  gentle  trust, 
which,  in  our  experience  we  find,  will  cover  also  with 
flowers  the  slopes  of  this  chasm. 

Of  immortality,  the  soul,  when  well  employed,  is  in- 
curious. It  is  so  well,  that  it  is  sure  it  will  be  well.  It 
asks  no  questions  of  the  Supreme  Power.  The  son  of 
Antiochus  asked  his  father,  when  he  would  join  battle. 
"  Dost  thou  fear,"  replied  the  King,  "  that  thou  only  in 
all  the  army  wilt  not  hear  the  trumpet  ?  "  'T  is  a  higher 
thing  to  confide,  that,  if  it  is  best  we  should  live,  we  shall 
live,  —  'tis  higher  to  have  this  conviction  than  to  have 
the  lease  of  indefinite  centuries  and  millenniums  and 
aeons.  Higher  than  the  question  of  our  duration  is  the 
question  of  our  deserving.  Immortality  will  come  to 
such  as  are  fit  for  it,  and  he  who  would  be  a  great  soul 
in  future,  must  be  a  great  soul  now.  It  is  a  doctrine  too 
great  to  rest  on  any  legend,  that  is,  on  any  man's  experi- 


188  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

ence  but  our  own.  It  must  be  proved,  if  at  all,  from  our 
own  activity  and  designs,  which  imply  an  interminable 
future  for  their  play. 

I  What  is  called  religion  effeminates  and  demoralizes. 
Such  as  you  are,  the  gods  themselves  could  not  help  you. 
Men  are  too  often  unfit  to  live,  from  their  obvious  ine- 
quality to  their  own  necessities,  or,  they  suffer  from  poli- 
tics, or  bad  neighbors,  or  from  sickness,  and  they  would 
gladly  know  that  they  were  to  be  dismissed  from  the  du- 
ties of  life.  But  the  wise  instinct  asks,  "  How  will  death 
help  them  ? "  These  are  not  dismissed  when  they  die. 
You  shall  not  wish  for  death  out  of  pusillanimity.  The 
weight  of  the  Universe  is  pressed  down  on  the  shoulders 
of  each  moral  agent  to  hold  him  to  his  task.  The  only 
path  of  escape  known  in  all  the  worlds  of  God  is  per- 
formance. You  must  do  your  work,  before  you  shall  be 
released.  And  as  far  as  it  is  a  question  of  fact  respect- 
ing the  government  of  the  Universe,  Marcus  Antoninus 
summed  the  whole  in  a  word  :  "  It  is  pleasant  to  die,  if 
there  be  gods  ;  and  sad  to  live,  if  there  be  none." 

And  so  I  think  that  the  last  lesson  of  life,  the  choral 
song  which  rises  from  all  elements  and  all  angels,  is, 
a  voluntary  obedience,  a  necessitated  freedom.  Man  is 
made  of  the  same  atoms  as  the  world  is,  he  shares  the 
same  impressions,  predispositions,  and  destiny.  When 
his  mind  is  illuminated,  when  his  heart  is  kind,  he  throws 
himself  joyfully  into  the  sublime  order,  and  does,  with 
knowledge,  what  the  stones  do  by  structure. 

The  religion  which  is  to  guide  and  fulfil  the  present 

(  and  coming  ages,  whatever  else  it  be,  must  be  intellectual. 
The  scientific  mind  must  have  a  faith  which  is  science. 


WORSHIP.  189 

"  There  are  two  things,"  said  Mahomet,  "  which  I  abhor, 
the  learned  in  his  infidelities,  and  the  fool  in  his  devo- 
tions." Our  times  are  impatient  of  both,  and  specially 
of  the  last.  Let  us  have  nothing  now  which  is  not  its 
own  evidence.  There  is  surely  enough  for  the  heart  and 
imagination  in  the  religion  itself.  Let  us  not  be  pestered 
with  assertions  and  half-truths,  with  emotions  and  snuffle. 
There  will  be  a  new  church  founded  on  moral  science, 
at  first  cold  and  naked,  a  babe  in  a  manger  again,  the  al- 
gebra and  mathematics  of  ethical  law,  the  church  of  men 
to  come,  without  shawms,  or  psaltery,  or  sackbut ;  but  it 
will  have  heaven  and  earth  for  its  beams  and  rafters  ; 
science  for  symbol  and  illustration ;  it  will  fast  enough 
gather  beauty,  music,  picture,  poetry.  Was  never  stoi- 
cism so  stern  and  exigent  as  this  shall  be.  It  shall  send 
man  home  to  his  central  solitude,  shame  these  social,  sup- 
plicating manners,  and  make  him  know  that  much  of  the 
time  he  must  have  himself  to  his  friend.  He  shall  expect 
no  co-operation,  he  shall  walk  with  no  companion.  The 
nameless  Thought,  the  nameless  Power,  the  super-personal 
Heart,  —  he  shall  repose  alone  on  that.  He  needs  only 
his  own  verdict.  No  good  fame  can  help,  no  bad  fame 
can  hurt  him.  The  Laws  are  his  consolers,  the  good 
Laws  themselves  are  alive,  they  know  if  we  have  kept 
them,  they  animate  him  with  the  leading  of  great  duty, 
and  an  endless  horizon.  Honor  and  fortune  exist  to  him 
who  always  recognizes  the  neighborhood  of  the  great, 
always  feels  himself  in  the  presence  of  high  causes. 


vn. 

CONSIDEKATIONS  BY  THE  WAY. 


HEAR  what  British  Merlin  sung, 

Of  keenest  eye  and  truest  tongue. 

Say  not,  the  chiefs  who  first  arrive 

Usurp  the  seats  for  which  all  strive ; 

The  forefathers  this  land  who  found 

Failed  to  plant  the  vantage-ground ; 

Ever  from  one  who  comes  to-morrow 

Men  wait  their  good  and  truth  to  borrow. 

But  wilt  thou  measure  all  thy  road, 

See  thou  lift  the  lightest  load. 

Who  has  little,  to  him  who  has  less,  can  spare, 

And  thou,  Cyndyllan's  son !  beware 

Ponderous  gold  and  stuffs  to  bear, 

To  falter  ere  thou  thy  task  fulfil, — 

Only  the  light-armed  climb  the  hill. 

The  richest  of  all  lords  is  Use, 

And  ruddy  Health  the  loftiest  Muse. 

Live  in  the  sunshine,  swim  the  sea, 

Drink  the  wild  air's  salubrity: 

Where  the  star  Canope  shines  in  May, 

Shepherds  are  thankful,  and  nations  gay. 

The  music  that  can  deepest  reach, 

And  cure  all  ill,  is  cordial  speech : 


192  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Mask  thy  wisdom  with  delight, 
Toy  with  the  bow,  yet  hit  the  white. 
Of  all  wit's  uses,  the  main  one 
Is  to  live  well  with  who  has  none. 
Cleave  to  thine  acre ;  the  round  year 
Will  fetch  all  fruits  and  virtues  here: 
Fool  and  foe  may  harmless  roam, 
Loved  and  lovers  bide  at  home. 
A  day  for  toil,  an  hour  for  sport, 
But  for  a  friend  is  life  too  short. 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY. 


ALTHOUGH  this  garrulity  of  advising  is  born  with  us,  I 
confess  that  life  is  rather  a  subject  of  wonder,  than  of 
didactics.  So  much  fate,  so  much  irresistible  dictation 
from  temperament  and  unknown  inspiration  enters  into 
it,  that  we  doubt  we  can  say  anything  out  of  our  own  ex- 
perience whereby  to  help  each  other.  All  the  professions 
are  timid  and  expectant  agencies.  The  priest  is  glad  if 
his  prayers  or  his  sermon  meet  the  condition  of  any 
soul ;  if  of  two,  if  of  ten,  't  is  a  signal  success.  But  he 
walked  to  the  church  without  any  assurance  that  he 
knew  the  distemper,  or  could  heal  it.  The  physician 
prescribes  hesitatingly  out  of  his  few  resources,  the  same 
tonic  or  sedative  to  this  new  and  peculiar  constitution, 
which  he  has  applied  with  various  success  to  a  hundred 
men  before.  If  the  patient  mends,  he  is  glad  and  sur- 
prised. The  lawyer  advises  the  client,  and  tells  his  story 
to  the  jury,  and  leaves  it  with  them,  and  is  as  gay  and  as 
much  relieved  as  the  client,  if  it  turns  out  that  he  has 
a  verdict.  The  judge  weighs  the  arguments,  and  puts  a 
brave  face  on  the  matter,  and,  since  there  must  be  a  de- 
cision, decides  as  he  can,  and  hopes  he  has  done  justice, 
and  given  satisfaction  to  the  community ;  but  is  only  an 
advocate  after  all.  And  so  is  all  life  a  timid  and  unskil- 


194  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

ful  spectator.  We  do  what  we  must,  and  call  it  by  the 
best  names.  We  like  very  well  to  be  praised  for  our 
action,  but  our  conscience  says,  "  Not  unto  us."  'T  is 
little  we  can  do  for  each  other.  We  accompany  the 
youth  with  sympathy,  and  manifold  old  sayings  of  the 
wise,  to  the  gate  of  the  arena,  but  't  is  certain  that  not 
by  strength  of  ours,  or  of  the  old  sayings,  but  only  on 
strength  of  his  own,  unknown  to  us  or  to  any,  he  must 
stand  or  fall.  That  by  which  a  man  conquers  in  any 
passage,  is  a  profound  secret  to  every  other  being  in  the 
world,  and  it  is  only  as  he  turns  his  back  on  us  and  all 
men,  and  draws  on  this  most  private  wisdom,  that  any 
good  can  come  to  him.  What  we  have,  therefore,  to 
say  of  life,  is  rather  description,  or,  if  you  please,  celebra- 
tion, than  available  rules. 

Yet  vigor  is  contagious,  and  whatever  makes  us  either 
think  or  feel  strongly,  adds  to  our  power  and  enlarges 
our  field  of  action.  We  have  a  debt  to  every  great  heart, 
to  every  fine  genius  ;  to  those  who  have  put  life  and  for- 
tune on  the  cast  of  an  act  of  justice  ;  to  those  who  have 
added  new  sciences ;  to  those  who  have  refined  life  by 
elegant  pursuits.  'T  is  the  fiue  souls  who  serve  us,  and 
not  what  is  called  fine  society.  Fine  society  is  only  a 
self-protection  against  the  vulgarities  of  the  street  and 
the  tavern.  Fine  society,  in  the  common  acceptation, 
has  neither  ideas  nor  aims.  It  renders  the  service  of  a 
perfumery,  or  a  laundry,  not  of  a  farm  or  factory.  'T  is 
an  exclusion  and  a  precinct.  Sydney  Smith  said,  "  A  few 
yards  in  London  cement  or  dissolve  friendship."  It  is 
an  unprincipled  decorum ;  an  affair  of  clean  linen  and 
coaches,  of  gloves,  cards,  and  elegance  in  trifles.  There 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.         195 

are  other  measures  of  self-respect  for  a  man,  than  the 
number  of  clean  shirts  he  puts  on  every  day.  Society 
wishes  to  be  amused.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  amused.  I 
wish  that  life  should  not  be  cheap,  but  sacred.  I  wish 
the  days  to  be  as  centuries,  loaded,  fragrant.  Now  we 
reckon  them  as  bank-days,  by  some  debt  which  is  to  be 
paid  us,  or  which  we  are  to  pay,  or  some  pleasure  we  are 
to  taste.  Is  ail  we  have  to  do  to  draw  the  breath  in, 
and  blow  it  out  again?  Porphyry's  definition  is  better: 
"  Life  is  that  which  holds  matter  together."  The  babe 
in  arms  is  a  channel  through  which  the  energies  we  call 
fate,  love,  and  reason,  visibly  stream.  See  what  a  come- 
tary  train  of  auxiliaries  man  carries  with  him,  of  animals, 
plants,  stones,  gases,  and  imponderable  elements.  Let 
us  infer  his  ends,  from  this  pomp  of  means.  Mirabeau 
said :  "  Why  should  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  men,  unless 
it  be  to  succeed  in  everything,  everywhere.  You  must 
say  of  nothing,  That  is  beneath  me,  nor  feel  that  anything 
can  be  out  of  your  power.  Nothing  is  impossible  to  the 
man  who  can  will.  Is  that  necessary  ?  That  shall  be  : 
—  this  is  the  only  law  of  success."  Whoever  said  it, 
this  is  in  the  right  key.  But  this  is  not  the  tone  and 
genius  of  the  men  in  the  street.  In  the  streets,  we 
grow  cynical.  The  men  we  meet  are  coarse  and  torpid. 
The  finest  wits  have  their  sediment.  What  quantities  of 
fribbles,  paupers,  invalids,  epicures,  antiquaries,  poli- 
ticians, thieves,  and  triflers  of  both  sexes,  might  be  ad- 
vantageously spared !  Mankind  divides  itself  into  two 
classes,  —  benefactors  and  malefactors.  The  second  class 
is  vast,  the  first  a  handful.  A  person  seldom  falls  sick, 
but  the  bystanders  are  animated  with  a  faint  hope  that 


196  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

be  will  die :  —  quantities  of  poor  lives ;  of  distressing 
invalids  ;  of  cases  for  a  gun.  Franklin  said  :  "  Mankind 
are  very  superficial  and  dastardly :  they  begin  upon  a 
thing,  but,  meeting  with  a  difficulty,  they  fly  from  it  dis- 
couraged :  but  they  have  capacities,  if  they  would  employ 
them."  Shall  we  then  judge  a  country  by  the  majority, 
or  by  the  minority  ?  By  the  minority,  surely.  'T  is 
pedantry  to  estimate  nations  by  the  census,  or  by  square 
miles  of  land,  or  other  than  by  their  importance  to  the 
mind  of  the  time. 

Leave  this  hypocritical  prating  about  the  masses. 
Masses  are  rude,  lame,  unmade,  pernicious  in  their  de- 
mands and  influence,  and  need  not  to  be  flattered,  but  to 
be  schooled.  I  wish  not  to  concede  anything  to  them, 
but  to  tame,  drill,  divide,  and  break  them  up,  and  draw 
individuals  out  of  them.  The  worst  of  charity  is,  that  the 
lives  you  are  asked  to  preserve  are  not  worth  preserv- 
ing. Masses  !  the  calamity  is  the  masses.  I  do  not  wish 
any  mass  at  all,  but  honest  men  only,  lovely,  sweet,  ac- 
complished women  only,  and  no  shovel-handed,  narrow- 
brained,  gin-drinking  million  stockingers  or  lazzaroni  at 
all.  If  government  knew  how,  I  should  like  to  see  it 
check,  not  multiply  the  population.  When  it  reaches  its 
true  law  of  action,  every  man  that  is  born  will  be  hailed 
as  essential.  Away  with  this  hurrah  of  masses,  and  let 
us  have  the  considerate  vote  of  single  men  spoken  on 
their  honor  and  their  conscience.  In  old  Egypt,  it  was 
established  law,  that  the  vote  of  a  prophet  be  reckoned 
equal  to  a  hundred  hands.  I  think  it  was  much  under- 
estimated. "  Clay  and  clay  differ  in  dignity,"  as  we 
discover  by  our  preferences  every  day.  What  a  vicious 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.         197 

practice  is  this  of  our  politicians  at  Washington  pairing 
off !  as  if  one  man  who  votes  wrong,  going  away,  could 
excuse  you,  who  mean  to  vote  right,  for  going  away ;  or, 
as  if  your  presence  did  not  tell  in  more  ways  than  in  your 
vote.  Suppose  the  three  hundred  heroes  at  Thermopylae 
had  paired  off  with  three  hundred  Persians :  would  it 
have  been  all  the  same  to  Greece,  and  to  history  ?  Na- 
poleon was  called  by  his  men  Cent  Mille.  Add  honesty 
to  him,  and  they  might  have  called  him  Hundred  Million. 
Nature  makes  fifty  poor  melons  for  one  that  is  good, 
and  shakes  down  a  tree  full  of  gnarled,  wormy,  unripe 
crabs,  before  you  can  find  a  dozen  dessert  apples ;  and 
she  scatters  nations  of  naked  Indians,  and  nations  of 
clothed  Christians,  with  two  or  three  good  heads  among 
them.  Nature  works  very  hard,  and  only  hits  the  white 
once  in  a  million  throws.  In  mankind,  she  is  contented 
if  she  yields  one  master  in  a  century.  The  more  diffi- 
culty there  is  in  creating  good  men,  the  more  they  are 
used  when  they  come.  I  once  counted  in  a  little  neigh- 
borhood, and  found  that  every  able-bodied  man  had,  say 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  persons  dependent  on  him  for  ma- 
terial aid,  —  to  whom  he  is  to  be  for  spoon  and  jug,  for 
backer  and  sponsor,  for  nursery  and  hospital,  and  many 
functions  beside :  nor  does  it  seem  to  make  much  differ- 
ence whether  he  is  bachelor  or  patriarch ;  if  he  do  not 
violently  decline  the  duties  that  fall  to  him,  this  amount 
of  helpfulness  will  in  one  way  or  another  be  brought 
home  to  him.  This  is  the  tax  which  his  abilities  pay. 
The  good  men  are  employed  for  private  centres  of  use, 
and  for  larger  influence.  All  revelations,  whether  of 
mechanical  or  intellectual  or  moral  science,  are  made,  not 


198  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

to  communities,  but  to  single  persons.  All  the  marked 
events  of  our  day,  all  the  cities,  all  the  colonizations, 
may  be  traced  back  to  their  origin  in  a  private  brain. 
All  the  feats  which  make  our  civility  were  the  thoughts 
of  a  few  good  heads. 

Meantime,  this  spawning  productivity  is  not  noxious  or 
needless.  You  would  say,  this  rabble  of  nations  might  be 
spared.  But  no,  they  are  all  counted  and  depended  on. 
Fate  keeps  everything  alive  so  long  as  the  smallest  thread 
of  public  necessity  holds  it  on  to  the  tree.  The  coxcomb 
and  bully  and  thief  class  are  allowed  as  proletaries,  every 
one  of  their  vices  being  the  excess  or  acridity  of  a  virtue. 
The  mass  are  animal,  in  pupilage,  and  near  chimpanzee. 
But  the  units,  whereof  this  mass  is  composed,  are  neuters, 
every  one  of  which  may  be  grown  to  a  queen-bee.  The 
rule-  is,  we  are  used  as  brute  atoms,  until  we  think :  then, 
we  use  all  the  rest.  Nature  turns  all  malfeasance  to 
good.  Nature  provided  for  real  needs.  No  sane  man 
at  last  distrusts  himself.  His  existence  is  a  perfect  an- 
swer to  all  sentimental  cavils.  If  he  is,  he  is  wanted, 
and  has  the  precise  properties  that  are  required.  That 
we  are  here,  is  proof  we  ought  to  be  here.  We  have  as 
good  right,  and  the  same  sort  of  right  to  be  here,  as  Cape 
Cod  or  Sandy  Hook  have  to  be  there. 

To  say,  then,  the  majority  are  wicked,  means  no  malice, 
no  bad  heart  in  the  observer,  but,  simply,  that  the  major- 
ity are  unripe,  and  have  not  yet  come  to  themselves,  do 
not  yet  know  their  opinion.  That,  if  they  knew  it,  is  an 
oracle  for  them  and  for  all.  But  in  the  passing  moment, 
the  quadruped  interest  is  very  prone  to  prevail :  and  this 
,  beast-force,  whilst  it  makes  the  discipline  of  the  world, 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.         199 

the  school  of  heroes,  the  glory  of  martyrs,  has  provoked 
in  every  age  the  satire  of  wits,  and  the  tears  of  good  uieu. 
They  find  the  journals,  the  clubs,  the  governments,  the 
churches,  to  be  in  the  interest  and  the  pay  of  the  Devil. 
And  wise  men  have  met  this  obstruction  in  their  times, 
like  Socrates,  with  Ids  famous  irony ;  like  Bacon,  with 
lifelong  dissimulation ;  like  Erasmus,  with  his  book 
"  The  Praise  of  Folly  "  ;  like  Rabelais,  with  his  satire 
rending  the  nations.  "  They  were  the  fools  who  cried 
against  me,  you  will  say,"  wrote  the  Chevalier  de  Bouf- 
flers  to  Grimm ;  "ay,  but  the  fools  have  the  advantage  of 
numbers,  and  't  is  that  which  decides.  'T  is  of  no  use  for 
us  to  make  war  with  them  :  we  shall  not  weaken  them ; 
they  will  always  be  the  masters.  There  will  not  be  a 
practice  or  an  usage  introduced,  of  which  they  are  not 
the  authors." 

In  front  of  these  sinister  facts,  the  first  lesson  of  his- 
tory is  the  good  of  evil.  Good  is  a  good  doctor,  but 
Bad  is  sometimes  a  better.  'T  is  the  oppressions  of 
William  the  Norman,  savage  forest-laws,  and  crushing 
despotism,  that  made  possible  the  inspirations  of  Magna 
Charta  under  John.  Edward  I.  wanted  money,  armies, 
castles,  and  as  much  as  he  could  get.  It  was  necessary 
to  call  the  people  together  by  shorter,  swifter  ways,  — 
and  the  House  of  Commons  arose.  To  obtain  subsidies, 
he  paid  in  privileges.  In  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his 
reign,  he  decreed,  "  that  no  tax  should  be  levied  without 
consent  of  Lords  and  Commons  "  ;  —  which  is  the  basis  of 
the  English  Constitution.  Plutarch  affirms  that  the  cruel 
wars  which  followed  the  march  of  Alexander,  introduced 
the  civility,  language,  and  arts  of  Greece  into  the  savage 


200  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

East ;  introduced  marriage ;  built  seventy  cities :  and 
united  hostile  nations  under  one  government.  The  bar- 
barians who  broke  up  the  Roman  empire  did  not  arrive 
a  day  too  soon.  Schiller  says  the  Thirty  Years'  War 
made  Germany  a  nation.  Rough,  selfish  despots  serve 
men  immensely,  as  Henry  VIII.  in  the  contest  with  the 
Pope ;  as  the  infatuations  no  less  than  the  wisdom  of 
Cromwell ;  as  the  ferocity  of  the  Russian  czars ;  as  the 
fanaticism  of  the  French  regicides  of  1789.  The  frost 
which  kills  the  harvest  of  a  year,  saves  the  harvests  of  a 
century,  by  destroying  the  weevil  or  the  locust.  Wars, 
fires,  plagues,  break  up  immovable  routine,  clear  the 
ground  of  rotten  races,  and  dens  of  distemper,  and  open 
a  fair  field  to  new  men.  There  is  a  tendency  in  things 
to  right  themselves,  and  the  war  or  revolution  or  bank- 
ruptcy that  shatters  a  rotten  system,  allows  things  to 
take  a  new  and  natural  order.  The  sharpest  evils  are 
bent  into  that  periodicity  which  makes  the  errors  of 
planets,  and  the  fevers  and  distempers  of  men,  self-limit- 
ing. Nature  is  upheld  by  antagonism.  Passions,  resist- 
ance, danger,  are  educators.  We  acquire  the  strength 
we  have  overcome.  Without  war,  no  soldier;  without 
enemies,  no  hero.  The  sun  were  insipid,  if  the  universe 
were  not  opaque.  And  the  glory  of  character  is  in 
affronting  the  horrors  of  depravity,  to  draw  thence  new 
nobilities  of  power :  as  Art  lives  and  thrills  in  new  use 
and  combining  of  contrasts,  and  mining  into  the  dark 
evermore  for  blacker  pits  of  night.  What  would  painter 
t  do,  or  what  would  poet  or  saint,  but  for  crucifixions  and 
hells?  And  evermore  in  the  world  is  this  marvellous 
balance  of  beauty  and  disgust,  magnificence  and  rats. 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.        201 

Not  Antoninus,  but  a  poor  washerwoman  said :  "  The 
more  trouble,  the  more  lion ;  that 's  my  principle." 

I  do  not  think  very  respectfully  of  the  designs  or  the 
doings  of  the  people  who  went  to  California,  in  1849. 
It  was  a  rush  and  a  scramble  of  needy  adventurers,  and, 
in  the  Western  country,  a  general  jail-delivery  of  all  the 
rowdies  of  the  rivers.  Some  of  them  went  with  honest 
purposes,  some  with  very  bad  ones,  and  all  of  them  with 
the  very  commonplace  wish  to  find  a  short  way  to  wealth. 
But  Nature  watches  over  all,  and  turns  this  malfeasance 
to  good.  California  gets  peopled  and  subdued,  —  civil- 
ized in  this  immoral  way,  —  and,  on  this  fiction,  a  real 
prosperity  is  rooted  and  grown.  5T  is  a  decoy-duck ;  't  is 
tubs  thrown  to  amuse  the  whale :  but  real  ducks,  and 
whales  that  yield  oil,  are  caught.  And  out  of  Sabine 
rapes,  and  out  of  robbers'  forays,  real  Homes  and  their 
heroisms  come  in  fulness  of  time. 

lu  America,  the  geography  is  sublime,  but  the  men  are 
not ;  the  inventions  are  excellent,  but  the  inventors  one 
is  sometimes  ashamed  of.  The  agencies  by  which  events 
so  grand  as  the  opening  of  California,  of  Texas,  of  Ore- 
gon, and  the  junction  of  the  two  oceans,  are  effected,  are 
paltry,  —  coarse  selfishness,  fraud,  and  conspiracy :  and 
most  of  the  great  results  of  history  are  brought  about 
by  discreditable  means. 

The  benefaction  derived  in  Illinois  and  the  great  West 
from  railroads  is  inestimable,  and  vastly  exceeding  any 
intentional  philanthropy  on  record.  What  is  the  benefit 
done  by  a  good  King  Alfred,  or  by  a  Howard,  or  Pesta- 
lozzi,  or  Elizabeth  Fry,  or  Florence  Nightingale,  or  any 
lover,  less  or  larger,  compared  with  the  involuntary 


202  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

blessing  wrought  on  nations  by  the  selfish  capitalists  who 
,  built  the  Illinois,  Michigan,  and  the  network  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley  roads,  which  have  evoked  not  only  all  the 
wealth  of  the  soil,  but  the  energy  of  millions  of  men. 
'T  is  a  sentence  of  ancient  wisdom,  "  that  God  hangs  the 
greatest  weights  on  the  smallest  wires." 

What  happens  thus  to  nations,  befalls  every  day  in  pri- 
vate houses.  When  the  friends  of  a  gentleman  brought 
to  his  notice  the  follies  of  his  sons,  with  many  hints  of 
their  danger,  he  replied,  that  he  knew  so  much  mischief 
when  he  was  a  boy,  and  had  turned  out  on  the  whole  so 
successfully,  that  he  was  not  alarmed  by  the  dissipation 
of  boys ;  't  was  dangerous  water,  but,  he  thought,  they 
would  soon  touch  bottom,  and  then  swim  to  the  top. 
This  is  bold  practice,  and  there  are  many  failures  to  a 
good  escape.  Yet  one  would  say,  that  a  good  under- 
standing would  suffice  as  well  as  moral  sensibility  to 
keep  one  erect ;  the  gratifications  of  the  passions  are  so 
quickly  seen  to  be  damaging,  and  —  what  men  like  least 
—  seriously  lowering  them  in  social  rank.  Then  all 
talent  sinks  with  character. 

"  Croyez  moi,  Verreur  aussi  a  son  merite,"  said  Vol- 
taire. We  see  those  who  surmount,  by  dint  of  some 
egotism  or  infatuation,  obstacles  from  which  the  prudent 
recoil.  The  right  partisan  is  a  heady  narrow  man,  who, 
because  he  does  not  see  many  things,  sees  some  one 
thing  with  heat  and  exaggeration,  and,  if  he  falls  among 
other  narrow  men,  or  on  objects  which  have  a  brief  im- 
portance, as  some  trade  or  politics  of  the  hour,  he  prefers 
it  to  the  universe,  and  seems  inspired,  and  a  godsend  to 
those  who  wish  to  magnify  the  matter,  and  carry  a  point. 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.         203 

Better,  certainly,  if  we  could  secure  the  strength  and  fire 
which  rude,  passionate  men  bring  into  society,  quite 
clear  of  their  vices.  But  who  dares  draw  out  the  linch- 
pin from  the  wagon-wheel  ?  'T  is  so  manifest,  that  there 
is  no  moral  deformity  but  is  a  good  passion  out  of  place ; 
that  there  is  no  man  who  is  not  indebted  to  his  foibles ; 
that,  according  to  the  old  oracle,  "the  Furies  are  the 
bonds  of  men  "  ;  that  the  poisons  are  our  principal  medi- 
cines, which  kill  the  disease,  and  save  the  life.  In  the 
high  prophetic  phrase,  He  causes  the  wrath  of  man,  to 
praise  him,  and  twists  and  wrenches  our  evil  to  our 
good.  Shakspeare  wrote,  — 

"  'T  is  said,  best  men  are  moulded  of  their  faults  "  ; 

and  great  educators  and  lawgivers,  and  especially  gener- 
als, and  leaders  of  colonies,  mainly  rely  on  this  stuff, 
and  esteem  men  of  irregular  and  passional  force  the  best 
timber.  A  man  of  sense  and  energy,  the  late  head  of  the 
Farm  School  in  Boston  Harbor,  said  to  me,  "  I  want 
none  of  your  good  boys,  —  give  me  the  bad  ones."  And 
this  is  the  reason,  I  suppose,  why,  as  soon  as  the  chil- 
dren are  good,  the  mothers  are  scared,  and  think  they 
are  going  to  die.  Mirabeau  said,  "  There  are  none  but 
men  of  strong  passions  capable  of  going  to  greatness ; 
none  but  such  capable  of  meriting  the  public  gratitude." 
Passion,  though  a  bad  regulator,  is  a  powerful  spring. 
Any  absorbing  passion  has  the  effect  to  deliver  from  the 
little  coils  and  cares  of  every  day :  't  is  the  heat  which 
sets  our  human  atoms  spinning,  overcomes  the  friction  of 
crossing  thresholds,  and  first  addresses  in  society,  and 
gives  us  a  good  start  and  speed,  easy  to  continue,  when 


204  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

once  it  is  begun.  In  short,  there  is  no  man  who  is  not 
at  some  time  indebted  to  his  vices,  as  no  plant  that  is 
not  fed  from  manures.  We  only  insist  that  the  man 
meliorate,  and  that  the  plant  grow  upward,  and  convert 
the  base  into  the  better  nature. 

The  wise  workman  will  not  regret  the  poverty  or  the 
solitude  which  brought  out  his  working  talents.  The 
youth  is  charmed  with  the  fine  air  and  accomplishments 
of  the  children  of  fortune :  but  all  great  men  come 
out  of  the  middle  classes.  '  T  is  better  for  the  head ; 
't  is  better  for  the  heart.  Marcus  Antoninus  says,  that 
Pronto  told  him  "  that  the  so-called  high-horn  are  for 
the  most  part  heartless  " ;  whilst  nothing  is  so  indicative 
of  deepest  culture  as  a  tender  consideration  of  the  igno- 
rant. Charles  James  Fox  said  of  England  :  "  The  his- 
tory of  this  country  proves,  that  we  are  not  to  expect 
from  men  in  affluent  circumstances  the  vigilance,  energy, 
and  exertion  without  which  the  House  of  Commons 
would  lose  its  greatest  force  and  weight.  Human  nature 
is  prone  to  indulgence,  and  the  most  meritorious  public 
services  have  always  been  performed  by  persons  in  a  con- 
dition of  life  removed  from  opulence."  And  yet  what 

|  we  ask  daily,  is  to  be  conventional.  Supply,  most  kind 
gods  !  this  defect  in  my  address,  in  my  form,  in  my  for- 
tunes, which  puts  me  a  little  out  of  the  ring :  supply  it, 
and  let  me  be  like  the  rest  whom  I  admire,  and  on  good 
terms  with  them.  But  the  wise  gods  say,  No,  we  have 

!  better  things  for  thee.  By  humiliations,  by  defeats,  by 
loss  of  sympathy,  by  gulf's  of  disparity,  learn  a  wider 
truth  and  humanity  than  that  of  a  fine  gentleman.  A 
Fifth  Avenue  landlord,  a  West  End  householder,  is  not 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE   WAY.       205 

the  highest  style  of  man ;  and,  though  good  hearts  and 
sound  minds  are  of  no  condition,  yet  he  who  is  to  be 
wise  for  many,  must  not  be  protected.  He  must  know 
the  huts  where  poor  men  lie,  and  the  chores  which  poor 
men  do.  The  first-class  minds,  Homer,  JEsop,  Socrates, 
Alfred,  Cervantes,  Shakspeare,  Franklin,  had  the  poor 
man's  feeling  and  mortification.  A  rich  man  was  never 
insulted  in  his  life ;  but  this  man  must  be  stnng.  A 
rich  man  was  never  in  danger  from  cold,  or  hunger,  or 
war,  or  ruffians,  and  you  can  see  he  was  not,  from  the 
moderation  of  his  ideas.  'T  is  a  fatal  disadvantage  to 
be  cockered,  and  to  eat  too  much  cake.  What  tests  of 
manhood  could  he  stand  ?  Take  him  out  of  his  pro- 
tections. He  is  a  good  book-keeper  ;  or  he  is  a  shrewd 
adviser  in  the  insurance  office  :  perhaps  he  could  pass  a 
college  examination,  and  take  his  degrees:  perhaps  he 
can  give  wise  counsel  in  a  court  of  law.  Now  plant 
him  down  among  farmers,  firemen,  Indians,  and  emi- 
grants. Set  a  dog  on  him :  set  a  highwayman  on  him : 
try  him  with  a  course  of  mobs  :  send  him  to  Kansas,  to 
Pike's  Peak,  to  Oregon :  and,  if  he  have  true  faculty, 
this  may  be  the  element  he  wants,  and  he  will  come  out 
of  it  with  broader  wisdom  and  manly  power.  ^Esop, 
Saadi,  Cervantes,  Eegnard,  have  been  taken  by  corsairs, 
left  for  dead,  sold  for  slaves,  and  know  the  realities  of 
human  life. 

Bad  times  have  a  scientific  value.  These  are  occasions 
a  good  learner  would  not  miss.  As  we  go  gladly  to  Fau- 
euil  Hall,  to  be  played  upon  by  the  stormy  winds  and 
strong  fingers  of  enraged  patriotism,  so  is  a  fanatical  per- 
secution, civil  war,  national  bankruptcy,  or  revolution 


206  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

more  rich  in  the  central  tones  than  languid  years  of  pros- 
perity. What  had  been,  ever  since  our  memory,  solid 
continent,  yawns  apart,  and  discloses  its  composition  and 
genesis.  We  learn  geology  the  morning  after  the  earth- 
quake, on  ghastly  diagrams  of  cloven  mountains,  up- 
heaved plains,  and  the  dry  bed  of  the  sea. 

In  our  life  and  culture,  everything  is  worked  up  and 
comes  in  use,  —  passion,  war,  revolt,  bankruptcy,  and 
not  less,  folly  and  blunders,  insult,  ennui,  and  bad  com- 
pany. Nature  is  a  rag-merchant,  who  works  up  every 
shred  and  ort  and  end  into  new  creations ;  like  a  good 
chemist,  whom  I  found,  the  other  day,  in  his  laboratory, 
converting  his  old  shirts  into  pure  white  sugar.  Life  is 
a  boundless  privilege,  and  when  you  pay  for  your  ticket, 
and  get  into  the  car,  you  have  no  guess  what  good  com- 
pany you  shall  find  there.  You  buy  much  that  is  not 
rendered  in  the  bill.  Men  achieve  a  certain  greatness 
unawares,  when  working  to  another  aim. 

If  now  in  this  connection  of  discourse,  we  should  ven- 
ture on  laying  down  the  first  obvious  rules  of  life,  I  will 
not  here  repeat  the  first  rule  of  economy,  already  pro- 
pounded once  and  again,  that  every  man  shall  maintain 
himself,  —  but  I  will  say,  get  health.  No  labor,  pains, 
temperance,  poverty,  nor  exercise,  that  can  gain  it,  must 
be  grudged.  For  sickness  is  a  cannibal  which  eats  up 
all  the  life  and  youth  it  can  lay  hold  of,  and  absorbs  its 
own  sons  and  daughters.  I  figure  it  as  a  pale,  wailing, 
distracted  phantom, 'absolutely  selfish,  heedless  of  what 
is  good  and  great,  attentive  to  its  sensations,  losing  its 
soul,  and  afflicting  other  souls  with  meanness  and  mop- 
ings,  and  with  ministration  to  its  voracity  of  trifles.  Dr. 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.        207 

Johnson  said  severely,  "  Every  man  is  a  rascal  as  soon  as 
he  is  sick."  Drop  the  cant,  and  treat  it  sanely.  In  deal- 
ing with  the  drunken,  we  do  not  affect  to  be  drunk.  We 
must  treat  the  sick  with  the  same  firmness,  giving  them, 
of  course,  every  aid,  —  but  withholding  ourselves.  I  once 
asked  a  clergyman  in  a  retired  town,  who  were  his  com- 
panions? what  men  of  ability  he  saw?  He  replied,  that 
he  spent  his  time  with  the  sick  and  the  dying.  I  said, 
he  seemed  to  me  to  need  quite  other  company,  and  all 
the  more  that  he  had  this :  for  if  people  were  sick  and 
dying  to  any  purpose,  we  would  leave  all  and  go  to  them, 
but,  as  far  as  I  had  observed,  they  were  as  frivolous  as 
the  rest,  and  sometimes  much  more  frivolous.  Let  us 
engage  our  companions  not  to  spare  us.  I  knew  a  wise 
woman  who  said  to  her  friends,  "  When  I  am  old,  rule 
me."  And  the  best  part  of  health  is  fine  disposition.  It 
is  more  essential  than  talent,  even  in  the  works  of  talent. 
Nothing  will  supply  the  want  of  sunshine  to  peaches,  and, 
io  make  knowledge  valuable,  you  must  have  the  cheer- 
fulness of  wisdom.  Whenever  you  are  sincerely  pleased, 
you  are  nourished.  The  joy  of  the  spirit  indicates  its 
strength.  All  healthy  things  are  sweet-tempered.  Genius 
works  in  sport,  and  goodness  smiles  to  the  last ;  and,  for 
the  reason,  that  whoever  sees  the  law  which  distributes 
things  does  not  despond,  but  is  animated  to  great  desires 
and  endeavors.  He  who  desponds  betrays  that  he  has 
not  seen  it. 

T  is  a  Dutch  proverb,  that  "paint  costs  nothing," 
such  are  its  preserving  qualities  in  damp  climates.  Well, 
sunshine  costs  less,  yet  is  finer  pigment.  And  so  of 
cheerfulness,  or  a  good  temper,  the  more  it  is  spent,  the 


208  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

more  of  it  remains.  The  latent  heat  of  an  ounce  of  wood 
or  stone  is  inexhaustible.  You  may  rub  the  same  chip  of 
pine  to  the  point  of  kiudliug,  a  hundred  times  ;  and  the 
power  of  happiness  of  any  soul  is  not  to  be  computed 
or  drained.  It  is  observed  that  a  depression  of  spirits 
develops  the  germs  of  a  plague  in  individuals  and  nations. 
It  is  an  old  commendation  of  right  behavior,  "Alii* 
la-tus,  sapiens  sibi,"  which  our  English  proverb  trans- 
lates, "  Be  merry  and  wise."  I  know  how  easy  it  is  to 
men  of  the  world  to  look  grave  and  sneer  at  your  san- 
guine youth,  and  its  glittering  dreams.  But  I  find  the 
gayest  castles  in  the  air  that  were  ever  piled,  far  better 
for  comfort  and  for  use,  than  the  dungeons  in  the  air  that 
are  daily  dug  and  caverned  out  by  grumbling,  discon- 
tented people.  I  know  those  miserable  fellows,  and  I 
hate  them,  who  see  a  black  star  always  riding  through 
the  light  and  colored  clouds  in  the  sky  overhead :  waves 
of  light  pass  over  and  hide  it  for  a  moment,  but  the  black 
star  keeps  fast  in  the  zenith.  But  power  dwells  with 
cheerfulness;  hope  puts  us  in  a  working  mood,  whilst 
despair  is  no  muse,  and  untunes  the  active  powers.  A 
man  should  make  life  and  Nature  happier  to  us,  or  he 
had  better  never  been  born.  When  the  political  econo- 
mist reckons  up  the  unproductive  classes,  he  should  put 
at  the  head  this  class  of  pitiers  of  themselves,  cravers  of 
sympathy,  bewailing  imaginary  disasters.  An  old  Trench 
verse  runs,  in  my  translation :  — 

Some  of  your  griefs  you  have  cured, 

And  the  sharpest  you  still  have  survived ; 

But  what  torments  of  pain  you  endured 
From  evils  that  never  arrived  1 


CONSIDEEATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.        209 

There  are  three  wants  which  never  can  be  satisfied : 
thaf~of"the  rich,  who  wants  something  more ;  that  of 
the  sick,  who  wants  something  different ;  and  that  of  the 
traveller,  who  says,  "  Anywhere  but  here."  The  Turkish 
cadi  said  to  Layard,  "After  the  fashion  of  thy  people, 
thou  hast  wandered  from  one  place  to  another,  until  thou 
art  happy  and  content  in  none."  My  countrymen  are 
not  less  infatuated  with  the  rococo  toy  of  Italy.  All 
America  seems  on  the  point  of  embarking  for  Europe. 
But  we  shall  not  always  traverse  seas  and  lands  with 
light  purposes,  and  for  pleasure,  as  we  say.  One  day 
we  shall  cast  out  the  passion  for  Europe,  by  the  passion 
for  America.  Culture  will  give  gravity  and  domestic  rest 
to  those  who  now  travel  only  as  not  knowing  how  else  to 
spend  money.  Already,  who  provoke  pity  like  that  ex- 
cellent family  party  just  arriving  in  their  well-appointed 
carriage,  as  far  from  home  and  any  honest  end  as  ever  ? 
Each  nation  has  asked  successively,  "  What  are  they  here 
for  ?  "  until  at  last  the  party  are  shamefaced,  and  antici- 
pate the  question  at  the  gates  of  each  town. 

Genial  manners  are  good,  and  power  of  accommoda- 
tion to  any  circumstance,  but  the  high  prize  of  life,  the 
crowning  fortune  of  a  man"  is  to  be  born  with  a  bias  to 
some  pursuit,  which  finds  him  in  employment  and  hap- 
piness, —  whether  it  be  to  make  baskets,  or  broad- 
swords, or  canals,  or  statutes,  or  songs.  I  doubt  not 
this  was  the  meaning  of  Socrates,  when  he  pronounced 
artists  the  only  truly  wise,  as  being  actually,  not  appar- 
ently so. 

In  childhood,  we  fancied  ourselves  walled  in  by  the 
horizon,  as  by  a  glass  bell,  and  doubted  not,  by  distant 


210  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

travel,  we  should  reach  the  baths  of  the  descending  sun 
and'  stars.  On  experiment,  the  horizon  flies  before  us, 
and  leaves  us  on  an  endless  common,  sheltered  by  no  glass 
bell.  Yet 't  is  strange  how  tenaciously  we  cling  to  that 
bell  astronomy,  of  a  protecting  domestic  horizon.  I  find 
the  same  illusion  in  the  search  after  happiness,  which  I 
observe,  every  summer,  recommenced  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, soon  after  the  pairing  of  the  birds.  The  young 
people  do  not  like  the  town,  do  not  like  the  sea-shore, 
they  will  go  inland ;  find  a  dear  cottage  deep  in  the 
mountains,  secret  as  their  hearts.  They  set  forth  on 
their  travels  in  search  of  a  home :  they  reach  Berkshire  ; 
they  reach  Vermont ;  they  look  at  the  farms,  —  good 
farms,  high  mountain-sides  ;  but  where  is  the  seclusion  ? 
The  farm  is  near  this ;  't  is  near  that ;  they  have  got  far 
from  Boston,  but  't  is  near  Albany,  or  near  Burlington, 
or  near  Montreal.  They  explore  a  farm,  but  the  house 
is  small,  old,  thin ;  discontented  people  lived  there,  and 
are  gone  :  —  there 's  too  much  sky,  too  much  outdoors ; 
too  public.  The  youth  aches  for  solitude.  When  he 
comes  to  the  house,  he  passes  through  the  house.  That 
does  not  make  the  deep  recess  he  sought.  "  All !  now, 
I  perceive,"  he  says,  "it  must  be  deep  with  persons; 
friends  only  can  give  depth."  Yes,  but  there  is  a  great 
dearth,  this  year,  of  friends ;  hard  to  find,  and  hard  to 
have  when  found  :  they  are  just  going  away :  they  too 
are  in  the  whirl  of  the  flitting  world,  and  have  engage- 
ments and  necessities.  They  are  just  starting  for  Wis- 
consin ;  have  letters  from  Bremen  :  —  see  you  again, 
soon.  Slow,  slow  to  learn  the  lesson,  that  there  is  but 
one  depth,  but  one  interior,  and  that  is,  —  his  purpose- 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.        211 

When  joy  or  calamity  or  genius  shall  show  him  it, 
then  woods,  then  farms,  then  city  shopmen  and  cab- 
drivers,  indifferently  with  prophet  or  friend,  will  mirror 
back  to  him  its  unfathomable  heaven,  its  populous  soli- 
tude. 

The  uses  of  travel  are  occasional,  and  short ;  but  the 
best  fruit  it  finds,  when  it  finds  it,  is  conversation ;  and 
this  is  a  main  function  of  life.  What  a  difference  in  the 
hospitality  of  minds !  Inestimable  is  he  to  whom  we  can 
say  what  we  cannot  say  to  ourselves.  Others  are  invol- 
untarily hurtful  to  us,  and  bereave  us  of  the  power  of 
thought,  impound  and  imprison  us.  As,  when  there  is 
sympathy,  there  needs  but  one  wise  man  in  a  company, 
and  all  are  wise,  so  a  blockhead  makes  a  blockhead  of 
his  companion.  Wonderful  power  to  benumb  possesses 
this  brother.  When  he  conies  into  the  office  or  public 
room,  the  society  dissolves ;  one  after  another  slips  out, 
and  the  apartment  is  at  his  disposal.  What  is  incurable 
but  a  frivolous  habit  ?  A  fly  is  as  untamable  as  a  hyena. 
Yet  folly  in  the  sense  of  fun,  fooling,  or  dawdling  can 
easily  be  borne;  as  Talleyrand  said,  "I  find  nonsense 
singularly  refreshing";  but  a  virulent,  aggressive  fool 
taints  the  reason  of  a  household.  I  have  seen  a  whole 
family  of  quiet,  sensible  people  unhinged  and  beside 
themselves,  victims  of  such  a  rogue;  for  the  steady 
wrongheadedness  of  one  perverse  person  irritates  the 
best  -.  since  we  must  withstand  absurdity.  But  resist- 
ance only  exasperates  the  acrid  fool,  who  believes  that 
Nature  and  gravitation  are  quite  wrong,  and  he  only  is 
right.  Hence  all  the  dozen  inmates  are  soon  perverted, 
with  whatever  virtues  and  industries  they  have,  into  con- 


212  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

tradictors,  accusers,  explainers,  and  repairers  of  this  one 
malefactor ;  like  a  boat  about  to  be  overset,  or  a  carriage 
run  away  with,  —  not  only  the  foolish  pilot  or  driver,  but 
everybody  on  board  is  forced  to  assume  strange  and  ridic- 
ulous attitudes,  to  balance  the  vehicle  and  prevent  the 
upsetting.  For  remedy,  whilst  the  case  is  yet  mild,  I 
recommend  phlegm  and  truth :  let  all  the  truth  that  is 
spoken  or  done  be  at  the  zero  of  indifferency,  or  truth 
itself  will  be  folly.  But,  when  the  case  is  seated  and  ma- 
lignant, the  only  safety  is  in  amputation ;  as  seamen  say, 
you  shall  cut  and  run.  How  to  live  with  unfit  compan- 
ions ?  —  for,  with  such,  life  is  for  the  most  part  spent : 
and  experience  teaches  little  better  than  our  earliest  in- 
stinct of  self-defence,  namely,  not  to  engage,  not  to  mix 
yourself  in  any  manner  with  them ;  but  let  their  madness 
spend  itself  unopposed. 

Conversation  is  an  art  in  which  a  man  has  all  mankind 
for  his  competitors,  for  it  is  that  which  all  are  practising 
every  day  while  they  live.  Our  habit  of  thought  —  take 
men  as  they  rise  —  is  not  satisfying ;  in  the  common 
experience,  I  fear,  it  is  poor  and  squalid.  The  success 
which  will  content  them  is  a  bargain,  a  lucrative  employ- 
ment, an  advantage  gained  over  a  competitor,  a  marriage, 
a  patrimony,  a  legacy,  and  the  like.  With  these  objects, 
their  conversation  deals  with  surfaces :  politics,  trade, 
personal  defects,  exaggerated  bad  news,  and  the  rain. 
This  is  forlorn,  and  they  feel  sore  and  sensitive.  Now, 
if  one  comes  who  can  illuminate  this  dark  house  with 
thoughts,  show  them  their  native  riches,  what  gifts  they 
have,  how  indispensable  each  is,  what  magical  powers 
over  nature  and  men;  what  access  to  poetry,  religion, 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.         213 

and  the  powers  which  constitute  character ;  he  wakes  in 
them  the  feeling  of  worth,  his  suggestions  require  new 
ways  of  living,  new  books,  new  men,  new  arts  and 
sciences,  —  then  we  come  out  of  our  egg-shell  existence 
into  the  great  dome,  and  see  the  zenith  over  and  the 
nadir  under  us.  Instead  of  the  tanks  and  buckets  of 
knowledge  to  which  we  are  daily  confined,  we  come  down 
to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  and  dip  our  hands  in  its  mirac- 
ulous waves.  'T  is  wonderful  the  effect  on  the  company. 
They  are  not  the  men  they  were.  They  have  all  been  to 
California,  and  all  have  come  back  millionnaires.  There 
is  no  book  and  no  pleasure  in  life  comparable  to  it.  Ask 
what  is  best  in  our  experience,  and  we  shall  say,  a  few 
pieces  of  plain-dealing  with  wise  people.  Our  conversa- 
tion once  and  again  has  apprised  us  that  we  belong  to 
better  circles  than  we  have  yet  beheld ;  that  a  mental 
power  invites  us,  whose  generalizations  are  more  worth 
for  joy  and  for  effect  than  anything  that  is  now  called 
philosophy  or  literature.  In  excited  conversation,  we 
have  glimpses  of  the  Universe,  hints  of  power  native  to 
the  soul,  far-darting  lights  and  shadows  of  an  Andes 
landscape,  such  as  we  can  hardly  attain  in  lone  medi- 
tation. Here  are  oracles  sometimes  profusely  given,  to 
which  the  memory  goes  back  in  barren  hours. 

Add  the  consent  of  will  and  temperament,  and  there 
exists  the  covenant  of  friendship.  Our  chief  want  in  life 
is,  somebody  who  shall  make  us  do  what  we  can.  This 
is  the  service  of  a  friend.  With  him  we  are  easily  great. 
There  is  a  sublimg  attraction  in  him  to  whatever  virtue 
is  in  us.  How  he  flings  wide  the  doors  of  existence ! 
What  questions  we  ask  of  him  !  what  an  understanding 


214  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

we  have  !  how  few  words  are  needed !  It  is  the  only  real 
society.  An  Eastern  poet,  Ali  Ben  Abu  Taleb,  writes 
frith  sad  truth :  — 

"  He  who  has  a  thousand  friends  has  not  a  friend  to  spare, 
And  he  who  has  one  enemy  shall  meet  him  everywhere." 

But  few  writers  have  said  anything  better  to  this  point 
than  Hafiz,  who  indicates  this  relation  as  the  test  of  men- 
tal health  :  "  Thou  learnest  no  secret  until  thou  knowest 
friendship,  since  to  the  unsound  no  heavenly  knowledge 
enters."  Neither  is  life  long  enough  for  friendship. 
That  is  a  serious  and  majestic  affair,  like  a  royal  presence, 
or  a  religion,  and  not  a  postilion's  dinner  to  be  eaten  on 
the  run.  There  is  a  pudency  about  friendship,  as  about 
love,  and  though  fine  souls  never  lose  sight  of  it,  yet  they 
do  not  name  it.  With  the  first  class  of  men  our  friend- 
ship or  good  understanding  goes  quite  behind  all  acci- 
dents of  estrangement,  of  condition,  of  reputation.  And 
yet  we  do  not  provide  for  the  greatest  good  of  life.  We 
take  care  of  our  health ;  we  lay  up  money ;  we  make  our 
roof  tight,  and  our  clothing  sufficient ;  but  who  provides 
wisely  that  he  shall  not  be  wanting  in  the  best  property 
of  all,  — friends  ?  We  know  that  all  our  training  is  to 
fit  us  for  this,  and  we  do  not  take  the  step  towards  it. 
How  long  shall  we  sit  and  wait  for  these  benefactors  ? 

It  makes  no  difference,  in  looking  back  five  years,  how 
you  have  been  dieted  or  dressed ;  whether  you  have  been 
lodged  on  the  first  floor  or  the  attic ;  whether  you  have 
had  gardens  and  baths,  good  cattle  and  horses,  have  been 
carried  in  a  neat  equipage,  or  in  a  ridiculous  truck : 
these  things  are  forgotten  so  quickly,  and  leave  no  effect. 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.       215 

But  it  counts  much  whether  we  have  had  good  compan- 
ions, in  that  time,  —  almost  as  much  as  what  we  have 
been  doing.  And  see  the  overpowering  importance  of 
neighborhood  in  all  association.  As  it  is  marriage,  fit  or 
unfit,  that  makes  our  home,  so  it  is  who  lives  near  us  of 
equal  social  degree,  —  a  few  people  at  convenient  dis- 
tance, no  matter  how  bad  company,  —  these,  and  these 
only,  shall  be  your  life's  companions :  and  all  those  who 
are  native,  congenial,  and  by  many  an  oath  of  the  heart, 
sacramented  to  you,  are  gradually  and  totally  lost.  You 
cannot  deal  systematically  with  this  fine  element  of  soci- 
ety, and  one  may  take  a  good  deal  of  pains  to  bring  peo- 
ple together,  and  to  organize  clubs  and  debating  societies, 
and  yet  no  result  come  of  it.  But  it  is  certain  that  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  good  in  us  that  does  not  know  itself, 
and  that  a  habit  of  union  and  competition  brings  people 
up  and  keeps  them  up  to  their  highest  point ;  that  life 
would  be  twice  or  ten  times  life,  if  spent  with  wise  and 
fruitful  companions.  The  obvious  inference  is,  a  little 
useful  deliberation  and  preconcert,  when  one  goes  to  buy 
house  and  land. 

But  we  live  with  people  on  other  platforms ;  we  live 
with  dependants,  not  only  with  the  young  whom  we  are 
to  teach  all  we  know,  and  clothe  with  the  advantages  we 
have  earned,  but  also  with  those  who  serve  us  directly, 
and  for  money.  Yet  the  old  rules  hold  good.  Let  not 
the  tie  be  mercenary,  though  the  service  is  measured  by 
money.  Make  yourself  necessary  to  somebody.  Do  not 
make  life  hard  to  any.  This  point  is  acquiring  new  im- 
portance in  American  social  life.  Our  domestic  service 
is  usually  a  foolish  fracas  of  unreasonable  demand  on  one 


216  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

side,  and  shirking  on  the  other.  A  man  of  wit  was  asked, 
in  the  train,  what  was  his  errand  in  the  city.  He  replied, 
"  I  have  been  sent  to  procure  an  angel,  to  do  cooking." 
A  lady  complained  to  me,  that,  of  her  two  maidens,  one 
was  absent-minded,  and  the  other  was  absent-bodied. 
And  the  evil  increases  from  the  ignorance  and  hostility 
of  every  ship-load  of  the  immigrant  population  swarming 
into  houses  and  farms.  Eew  people  discern  that  it  rests 
with  the  master  or  the  mistress  what  service  comes  from 
the  man  or  the  maid;  that  this  identical  hussy  was  a 
tutelar  spirit  in  one  house,  and  a  haridan  in  the  other. 
All  sensible  people  are  selfish,  and  nature  is  tugging  at 
every  contract  to  make  the  terms  of  it  fair.  If  you  are 
proposing  only  your  own,  the  other  party  must  deal  a 
little  hardly  by  you.  If  you  deal  generously,  the  other, 
though  selfish  and  unjust,  will  make  au  exception  in  your 
favor,  and  deal  truly  with  you.  When  I  asked  an  iron- 
master about  the  slag  and  cinder  in  railroad  iron, — 
"  O,"  he  said,  "  there 's  always  good  iron'  to  be  had  :  if 
there 's  cinder  in  the  iron,  't  is  because  there  was  cinder 
in  the  pay." 

But  why  multiply  these  topics,  and  their  illustrations, 
which  are  endless  ?  Life  brings  to  each  his  task,  and, 
whatever  art  you  select,  algebra,  painting,  architecture, 
poems,  commerce,  politics,  —  all  are  attainable,  even  to 
the  miraculous  triumphs,  on  the  same  terms,  of  selecting 
that  for  which  you  are  apt ;  begin  at  the  beginning,  pro- 
ceed in  order,  step  by  step.  'T  is  as  easy  to  twist  iron 
anchors,  and  braid  cannons,  as  to  braid  straw,  to  boil 
granite  as  to  boil  water,  if  you  take  all  the  steps  in  order. 
Wherever  there  is  failure,  there  is  some  giddiness,  some 


CONSIDERATIONS    BY    THE    WAY.        217 

superstition  about  luck,  some  step  omitted,  which  Nature 
never  pardons.  The  happy  conditions  of  life  may  be  had 
on  the  same  terms.  Their  attraction  for  you  is  the 
pledge  that  they  are  within  your  reach.  Our  prayers  are 
prophets.  There  must  be  fidelity,  and  there  must  be 
adherence.  How  respectable  the  life  that  clings  to  its 
objects  !  Youthful  aspirations  are  fine  things,  your  theo- 
ries and  plans  of  life  are  fair  and  commendable :  —  but 
will  you  stick  ?  Not  one,  I  fear,  in  that  Common  full  of 
people,  or,  in  a  thousand,  but  one :  and  when  you  tax 
them  with  treachery,  and  remind  them  of  their  high  reso- 
lutions, they  have  forgotten  that  they  made  a  vow.  The 
individuals  are  fugitive,  and  in  the  act  of  becoming  some- 
thing else,  and  irresponsible.  The  race  is  great,  the  ideal 
fair,  but  the  men  whiffling  and  unsure.  The  hero  is  he 
who  is  immovably  centred.  The  main  difference  between 
people  seems  to  be,  that  one  man  can  come  under  obliga- 
tions on  which  you  can  rely,  —  is  obligable  ;  and  another 
is  not.  As  he  has  not  a  law  within  him,  there 's  nothing 
to  tie  him  to. 

'T  is  inevitable  to  name  particulars  of  virtue,  and  of 
condition,  and  to  exaggerate  them.  But  all  rests  at  last 
on  that  integrity  which  dwarfs  talent,  and  can  spare  it. 
Sanity  consists  in  not  being  subdued  by  your  means. 
Fancy  prices  are  paid  for  position,  and  for  the  culture  of 
talent,  but  to  the  grand  interests,  superficial  success  is 
of  no  account.  The  man,  —  it  is  his  attitude,  —  not 
feats,  but  forces,  —  not  on  set  days  and  public  occasions, 
but  at  all  hours,  and  in  repose  alike  as  in  energy,  still 
formidable,  and  not  to  be  disposed  of.  The  populace 
says,  with  Home  Tooke,  "  If  you  would  be  powerful, 
10 


218  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

pretend  to  be  powerful."     I  prefer  to  say,  with  the  old 
prophet,  "  Seekest  thou  great  things  ?  seek  them  not "  : 

—  or,  what  was  said  of  a  Spanish  prince,   "The  more 
you  took  from  him,  the  greater  he  looked."     Plus  on  lui 
6te,  plus  il  est  grand. 

The  secret  of  culture  is  to  learn,  that  a  few  great 
points  steadily  reappear,  alike  in  the  poverty  of  the 
obscurest  farm,  and  in  the  miscellany  of  metropolitan 
life,  and  that  these  few  are  alone  to  be  regarded, — 
the  escape  from  all  false  ties ;  courage  to  be  what  we 
are;  and  love  of  what  is  simple  and  beautiful;  inde- 
pendence, and  cheerful  relation,  these  are  the  essentials, 

—  these,  and  the  wish  to  serve,  —  to  add  somewhat  to 
the  well-being  of  men. 


vin. 

BEAUTY. 


WAS  never  form  and  never  face 
So  sweet  to  SEYD  as  only  grace 
Which  did  not  slumber  like  a  stone, 
But  hovered  gleaming  and  was  gone. 
Beauty  chased  he  everywhere, 
In  flame,  in  storm,  in  clouds  of  air. 
He  smote  the  lake  to  feed  his  eye 

With  the  beryl  beam  of  the  broken  wave ; 
He  flung  in  pebbles  well  to  hear 

The  moment's  music  which  they  gave. 
Oft  pealed  for  him  a  lofty  tone 
From  nodding  pole  and  belting  zone. 
He  heard  a  voice  none  else  could  hear 
From  centred  and  from  errant  sphere. 
The  quaking  earth  did  quake  in  rhyme, 
Seas  ebbed  and  flowed  in  epic  chime. 
In  dens  of  passion,  and  pits  of  woe, 
He  saw  strong  Eros  struggling  through, 
To  sun  the  dark  and  solve  the  curse, 
And  beam  to  the  bounds  of  the  universe. 
While  thus  to  love  lie  gave  his  days 
In  loyal  worship,  scorning  praise, 


220  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

How  spread  their  lures  for  him,  in  vain, 
Thieving  Ambition  and  paltering  Gain  1 
He  thought  it  happier  to  be  dead, 
To  die  for  Beauty,  than  live  for  bread. 


BEAUTY. 


THE  spiral  tendency  of  vegetation  infects  education 
also.  Our  books  approach  very  slowly  the  things  we 
most  wish  to  know.  What  a  parade  we  make  of  our 
science,  and  how  far  off,  and  at  arm's  length,  it  is  from 
its  objects  !  Our  botany  is  all  names,  not  powers :  poets 
and  romancers  talk  of  herbs  of  grace  and  healing ;  but 
what  does  the  botanist  know  of  the  virtues  of  his  weeds  ? 
The  geologist  lays  bare  the  strata,  and  can  tell  them  all 
on  his  fingers  :  but  does  he  know  what  effect  passes  into 
the  man  who  builds  his  house  in  them  ?  what  effect  on 
the  race  that  inhabits  a  granite  shelf?  what  on  the  inhab- 
itants of  marl  and  of  alluvium  ? 

We  should  go  to  the  ornithologist  with  a  new  feeling, 
if  he  could  teach  us  what  the  social  birds  say,  when 
they  sit  in  the  autumn  council,  talking  together  in  the 
trees.  The  want  of  sympathy  makes  his  record  a  dull 
dictionary.  His  result  is  a  dead  bird.  The  bird  is  not 
in  its  ounces  and  inches,  but  in  its  relations  to  Na- 
ture ;  and  the  skin  or  skeleton  you  show  me  is  no 
more  a  heron,  than  a  heap  of  ashes  or  a  bottle  of  gases 
into  which  his  body  has  been  reduced,  is  Dante  or  Wash- 
ington. The  naturalist  is  led.  from  the  road  by  the  whole 
distance  of  his  fancied  advance.  The  boy  had  juster 


222  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

views  when  lie  gazed  at  the  shells  on  the  beach,  or  the 
flowers  in  the  meadow,  unable  to  call  them  by  their 
names,  than  the  man  in  the  pride  of  his  nomenclature. 
Astrology  interested  us,  for  it  tied  man  to  the  system. 
Instead  of  an  isolated  beggar,  the  farthest  star  felt  him, 
and  he  felt  the  star.  However  rash  and  however  falsi- 
fied by  pretenders  and  traders  in  it,  the  hint  was  true  and 
divine,  the  soul's  avowal  of  its  large  relations,  and  that 
climate,  century,  remote  natures,  as  well  as  near,  are 
part  of  its  biography.  Chemistry  takes  to  pieces,  but  it 
does  not  construct.  Alchemy  which  sought  to  transmute 
one  element  into  another,  to  prolong  life,  to  arm  with 
power,  —  that  was  in  the  right  direction.  All  our  science 
lacks  a  human  side.  The  tenant  is  more  than  the  house. 
Bugs  and  stamens  and  spores,  on  which  we  lavish  so 
many  years,  are  not  finalities,  and  man,  when  his  powers 
unfold  in  order,  will  take  Nature  along  with  him,  and 
admit  light  into  all  her  recesses.  The  human  heart  con- 
cerns us  more  than  the  poring  into  microscopes,  and  is 
larger  than  can  be  measured  by  the  pompous  figures  of 
the  astronomer. 

We  are  just  so  frivolous  and  sceptical.  Men  hold 
themselves  cheap  and  vile :  and  yet  a  man  is  a  fagot  of 
thunder-bolts.  All  the  elements  pour  through  his  sys- 
tem :  he  is  the  flood  of  the  flood,  and  fire  of  the  fire  ;  he 
feels  the  antipodes  and  the  pole,  as  drops  of  his  blood : 
they  are  the  extension  of  his  personality.  His  duties  are 
measured  by  that  instrument  lie  is ;  and  a  right  and  per- 
fect man  would  be  felt  to  the  centre  of  the  Copernican 
system.  'T  is  curious  that  we  only  believe  as  deep  as  we 
live.  We  do  not  think  heroes  can  exert  any  more  awful 


power  than  that  surface-play  which  amuses  us.  A  deep 
man  believes  in  miracles,  waits  for  them,  believes  in 
magic,  believes  that  the  orator  will  decompose  his  ad- 
versary ;  believes  that  the  evil  eye  can  wither,  that  the 
heart's  blessing  can  heal ;  that  love  can  exalt  talent ;  can 
overcome  all  odds.  From  a  great  heart  secret  magnet- 
isms flow  incessantly  to  draw  great  events.  But  we 
prize  very  humble  utilities,  a  prudent  husband,  a  good 
son,  a  voter,  a  citizen,  and  deprecate  any  romance  of 
character  ;  and  perhaps  reckon  only  his  money  value,  — 
his  intellect,  his  affection,  as  a  sort  of  bill  of  exchange, 
easily  convertible  into  fine  chambers,  pictures,  music,  and 
wine. 

The  motive  of  science  was  the  extension  of  man,  on 
all  sides,  into  Nature,  till  his  hands  should  touch  the 
stars,  his  eyes  see  through  the  earth,  his  ears  understand 
the  language  of  beast  and  bird,  and  the  sense  of  the 
wind;  and,  through  his  sympathy,  heaven  and  earth 
should  talk  with  him.  But  that  is  not  our  science. 
These  geologies,  chemistries,  astronomies,  seem  to  make 
wise,  but  they  leave  us  where  they  found  us.  The  in- 
vention is  of  use  to  the  inventor,  of  questionable  help  to 
any  other.  The  formulas  of  science  are  like  the  papers 
in  your  pocket-book,  of  no  value  to  any  but  the  owner. 
Science  in  England,  in  America,  is  jealous  of  theory,  hates 
the  name  of  love  and  moral  purpose.  There  's  a  revenge 
for  this  inhumanity.  What  manner  of  man  does  science 
make  ?  The  boy  is  not  attracted.  He  says,  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  such  a  kind  of  man  as  my  professor  is.  The 
collector  has  dried  all  the  plants  in  his  herbal,  but  he  has 
lost  weight  and  humor.  He  has  got  all  snakes  and  lizards 


224  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

in  his  phials,  but  science  has  done  for  him  also,  and  has 
put  the  man  into  a  bottle.  Our  reliance  on  the  physi- 
cian is  a  kind  of  despair  of  ourselves.  The  clergy  have 
bronchitis,  which  does  not  seem  a  certificate  of  spirit- 
ual health.  Macready  thought  it  came  of  the  falsetto  of 
their  voicing.  An  Indian  prince,  Tisso,  one  day  riding 
in  the  forest,  saw  a  herd  of  elk  sporting.  "  See  how 
happy,"  he  said,  "  these  browsing  elks  are  !  Why  should 
not  priests,  lodged  and  fed  comfortably  in  the  temples, 
also  amuse  themselves  ?  "  Returning  home,  he  imparted 
this  reflection  to  the  king.  The  king,  011  the  next  day, 
conferred  the  sovereignty  on  him,  saying,  "  Prince,  admin- 
ister this  empire  for  seven  days  :  at  the  termination  of  that 
period,  I  shall  put  thee  to  death."  At  the  end  of  the 
seventh  day,  the  king  inquired,  "  From  what  cause  hast 
thou  become  so  emaciated  ?  "  He  answered,  "  From  the 
horror  of  death."  The  monarch  rejoined,  "Live,  my 
child,  and  be  wise.  Thou  hast  ceased  to  take  recreation, 
saying  to  thyself,  In  seven  days  I  shall  be  put  to  death. 
These  priests  in  the  temple  incessantly  meditate  on 
death  ;  how  can  they  enter  into  healthful  diversions  ?  " 
But  the  men  of  science  or  the  doctors  or  the  clergy  are 
not  victims  of  their  pursuits,  more  than  others.  The 
miller,  the  lawyer,  and  the  merchant  dedicate  themselves 
to  their  own  details,  and  do  not  come  out  men  of  more 
force.  Have  they  divination,  grand  aims,  hospitality  of 
soul,  and  the  equality  to  any  event,  which  we  demand  in 
man,  or  only  the  reactions  of  the  mill,  of  the  wares,  of  the 
chicane  ? 

No  object  really  interests  us  but  man,  and  in  man  only 
his  superiorities ;  and  though  we  are  aware  of  a  perfect 


BEAUTY.  225 

law  in  Nature,  it  has  fascination  for  us  only  through  its 
relation  to  him,  or,  as  it  is  rooted  in  the  mind.  At  the 
birth  of  Winckelmanu,  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago, 
side  by  side  with  this  arid,  departmental,  post-mortem  sci- 
ence, rose  an  enthusiasm  in  the  study  of  Beauty ;  and  per- 
haps some  sparks  from  it  may  yet  light  a  conflagration 
in  the  other.  Knowledge  of  men,  knowledge  of  man- 
ners, the  power  of  form,  and  our  sensibility  to  personal 
influence,  never  go  out  of  fashion.  These  are  facts  of 
a  science  which  we  study  without  book,  whose  teachers 
and  subjects  are  always  near  us. 

So  inveterate  is  our  habit  of  criticism,  that  much  of 
our  knowledge  in  this  direction  belongs  to  the  chapter 
of  pathology.  The  crowd  in  the  street  oftener  furnishes 
degradations  than  angels  or  redeemers ;  but  they  all  prove 
the  transparency.  Every  spirit  makes  its  house ;  and  we 
can  give  a  shrewd  guess  from  the  house  to  the  inhabitant. 
But  not  less  does  Nature  furnish  us  with  every  sign  of 
grace  and  goodness.  The  delicious  faces  of  children,  the 
beauty  of  school-girls,  "  the  sweet  seriousness  of  six- 
teen," the  lofty  air  of  well-born,  well-bred  boys,  the  pas- 
sionate histories  in  the  looks  and  manners  of  youth  and 
early  manhood,  and  the  varied  power  in  all  that  well- 
known  company  that  escort  us  through  life,  —  we  know 
how  these  forms  thrill,  paralyze,  provoke,  inspire,  and 
enlarge  us. 

Beauty  is  the  form  under  which  the  intellect  prefers 
to  study  the  world.  All  privilege  is  that  of  beauty ;  for 
there  are  many  beauties ;  as,  of  general  nature,  of  the 
human  face  and  form,  of  manners,  of  brain,  or  method, 
moral  beauty,  or  beauty  of  the  soul. 


226  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

The  ancients  believed  that  a  genius  or  demon  look 
possession  at  birth  of  each  mortal,  to  guide  him;  that 
these  genii  were  sometimes  seen  as  a  flame  of  fire  partly 
immersed  in  the  bodies  which  they  governed  :  on  an  evil 
man,  resting  on  his  head ;  in  a  good  man,  mixed  with  his 
substance.  They  thought  the  same  genius,  at  the  death 
of  its  ward,  entered  a  new-born  child,  and  they  pretended 
to  guess  the  pilot,  by  the  sailing  of  the  ship.  We  recog- 
nize obscurely  the  same  fact,  though  we  give  it  our  own 
names.  We  say,  that  every  man  is  entitled  to  be  valued 
by  his  best  moment.  We  measure  our  friends  so.  We 
know,  they  have  intervals  of  folly,  whereof  we  take  no 
heed,  but  wait  the  reappearings  of  the  genius,  which  are 
sure  and  beautiful.  On  the  other  side,  everybody  knows 
people  who  appear  bedridden,  and  who,  with  all  degrees 
of  ability,  never  impress  us  with  the  air  of  free  agency. 
They  know  it  too,  and  peep  with  their  eyes  to  see  if  you 
detect  their  sad  plight.  We  fancy,  could  we  pronounce 
the  solving  word,  and  disenchant  them,  the  cloud  would 
roll  up,  the  little  rider  would  be  discovered  and  unseated, 
and  they  would  regain  their  freedom.  The  remedy  seems 
never  to  be  far  off,  since  the  first  step  into  thought  lifts 
this  mountain  of  necessity.  Thought  is  the  pent  air-ball 
which  can  rive  the  planet,  and  the  beauty  which  certain 
objects  have  for  him  is  the  friendly  fire  which  expands 
the  thought,  and  acquaints  the  prisoner  that  liberty  and 
power  await  him. 

The  question  of  Beauty  takes  us  out  of  surfaces,  to 
thinking  of  the  foundations  of  things.  Goethe  said: 
"The  beautiful  is  a  manifestation  of  secret  laws  of  Ka- 
ture,  which,  but  for  this  appearance,  had  been  forever 


BEAUTY.  227 

concealed  from  us."  And  the  working  of  this  deep  in- 
stinct makes  all  the  excitement  —  much  of  it  superficial 
and  absurd  enough  —  about  works  of  art,  which  leads 
armies  of  vain  travellers  every  year  to  Italy,  Greece,  and 
Egypt.  Every  man  values  every  acquisition  he  makes  in 
the  science  of  beauty,  above  his  possessions.  The  most 
useful  man  in  the  most  useful  world,  so  long  as  only 
commodity  was  served,  would  remain  unsatisfied.  But, 
as  fast  as  he  sees  beauty,  life  acquires  a  very  high 
value. 

I  am  warned  by  the  ill  fate  of  many  philosophers  not  to 
attempt  a  definition  of  Beauty.  I  will  rather  enumerate 
a  few  of  its  qualities.  We  ascribe  beauty  to  that  which 
is  simple ;  which  has  no  superfluous  parts ;  which  exactly 
answers  its  end;  which  stands  related  to  all  things; 
which  is  the  mean  of  many  extremes.  It  is  the  most  en- 
during quality,  and  the  most  ascending  quality.  We  say 
love  is  blind,  and  the  figure  of  Cupid  is  drawn  with  a 
bandage  round  his  eyes.  Blind :  yes,  because  he  does 
not  see  what  he  does  not  like ;  but  the  sharpest-sighted 
hunter  in  the  universe  is  Love,  for  finding  what  he  seeks, 
and  only  that ;  and  the  mythologists  tell  us,  that  Vulcan 
was  painted  lame,  and  Cupid  blind,  to  call  attention  to 
the  fact,  that  one  was  all  limbs,  and  the  other  all  eyes. 
In  the  true  mythology,  Love  is  an  immortal  child,  and 
Beauty  leads  him  as  a  guide :  nor  can  we  express  a 
deeper  sense  than  when  we  say,  Beauty  is  the  pilot  of 
the  young  soul. 

Beyond  their  sensuous  delight,  the  forms  and  colors  of 
Nature  have  a  new  charm  for  us  in  our  perception,  that 
not  one  ornament  was  added  for  ornament,  but  each  is  a 


228  CONDUCT   OF    LIFE. 

sign  of  some  better  health,  or  more  excellent  action. 
Elegance  of  form  in  bird  or  beast,  or  in  the  human  fig- 
ure,  marks  some  excellence  of  structure  :  or  beauty  is 
only  an  invitation  from  what  belongs  to  us.  'T  is  a  law 
of  botany,  that  in.  plants  the  same  virl  ucs  follow  the  same 
forms.  It  is  a  rule  of  largest  application,  true  in  a  plant, 
true  in  a  loaf  of  bread,  that  in  the  construction  of  any 
fabric  or  organism,  any  real  increase  of  fitness  to  its  end, 
is  an  increase  of  beauty. 

The  lesson  taught  by  the  study  of  Greek  and  of  Gothic 
art,  of  antique  and  of  Pre-Raphaelite  painting,  was  worth 
all  the  research,  —  namely,  that  all  beauty  must  be  or- 
ganic ;  that  outside  embellishment  is  deformity.  It  is 
the  soundness  of  the  bones  that  ultimates  itself  in  a 
peach-bloom  complexion :  health  of  constitution  that 
makes  the  sparkle  and  the  power  of  the  eye.  'T  is  the 
adjustment  of  the  size  and  of  the  joining  of  the  sockets 
of  the  skeleton,  that  gives  grace  of  outline  and  the  finer 
grace  of  movement.  The  cat  and  the  deer  cannot  move 
or  sit  inelegantly.  The  dancing-master  can  never  teach 
a  badly  built  man  to  walk  well.  The  tint  of  the  flower 
proceeds  from  its  root,  and  the  lustres  of  the  sea-shell 
begin  with  its  existence.  Hence  our  taste  in  building 
rejects  paint,  and  all  shifts,  and  shows  the  original  grain 
of  the  wood:  refuses  pilasters  and  columns  that  support 
nothing,  and  allows  the  real  supporters  of  the  house  hon- 
estly to  show  themselves.  Every  necessary  or  organic 
action  pleases  the  beholder.  A  man  leading  a  horse  to 
water,  a  farmer  sowing  seed,  the  labors  of  haymakers  in 
the  field,  the  carpenter  building  a  ship,  the  smith  at  his 
forge,  or,  whatever  useful  labor,  is  becoming  to  the  wise 


BEAUTY.  229 

eye.  But  if  it  is  done  to  be  seen,  it  is  mean.  How 
beautiful  are  ships  on  the  sea !  but  ships  in  the  theatre, 
—  or  ships  kept  for  picturesque  effect  on  Virginia  Water, 
by  George  IV.,  and  men  hired  to  stand  in  fitting  costumes 
at  a  penny  an  hour !  —  What  a  difference  in  effect  be- 
tween a  battalion  of  troops  marching  to  action,  and  one 
of  our  independent  companies  on  a  holiday !  In  the 
midst  of  a  military  show,  and  a  festal  procession  gay  with 
banners,  I  saw  a  boy  seize  an  old  tin  pan  that  lay  resting 
under  a  wall,  and  poising  it  on  the  top  of  a  stick,  he  set 
it  turning,  and  made  it  describe  the  most  elegant  imagina- 
ble curves,  and  drew  away  attention  from  the  decorated 
procession  by  this  startling  beauty. 

Another  text  from  the  mythologists.  The  Greeks 
fabled  that  Venus  was  born  of  the  foam  of  the  sea. 
Nothing  interests  us  which  is  stark  or  bounded,  but 
only  what  streams  with  life,  what  is  in  act  or  endeavor 
to  reach  somewhat  beyond.  The  pleasure  a  palace  or  a 
temple  gives  the  eye  is,  that  an  order  and  method  has 
been  communicated  to  stones,  so  that  they  speak  and 
geometrize,  become  tender  or  sublime  with  expression. 
Beauty  is  the  moment  of  transition,  as  if  the  form  were 
just  ready  to  flow  into  other  forms.  Any  fixedness, 
heaping,  or  concentration  on  one  feature,  —  a  long  nose, 
a  sharp  chin,  a  hump-back,  —  is  the  reverse  of  the  flow- 
ing, and  therefore  deformed.  Beautiful  as  is  the  symme- 
try of  any  form,  if  the  form  can  move,  we  seek  a  more 
excellent  symmetry.  The  interruption  of  equilibrium 
stimulates  the  eye  to  desire  the  restoration  of  symmetry, 
and  to  watch  the  steps  through  which  it  is  attained. 
This  is  the  charm  of  running  water,  sea-waves,  the  flight 


230  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

of  birds,  and  the  locomotion  of  animals.  This  is  the  the- 
ory of  dancing,  to  recover  continually  hi  changes  the  lost 
equilibrium,  not  by  abrupt  and  angular,  but  by  gradual 
and  curving  movements.  J  have  been  told  by  persons  of 
experience  in  matters  of  taste,  that  the  fashions  follow  a 
law  of  gradation,  and  are  never  arbitrary.  The  new  mode 
is  always  only  a  step  onward  in  the  same  direction  as  the 
last  mode  ;  and  a  cultivated  eye  is  prepared  for  and  pre- 
dicts the  new  fashion.  This  fact  suggests  the  reason  of 
all  mistakes  and  offence  in  our  own  modes.  It  is  neces- 
sary in  music,  when  you  strike  a  discord,  to  let  down  the 
ear  by  an  intermediate  note  or  two  to  the  accord  again  : 
and  many  a  good  experiment,  born  of  good  sense,  and 
destined  to  succeed,  fails,  only  because  it  is  offensively 
sudden.  I  suppose,  the  Parisian  milliner  who  dresses  the 
world  from  her  imperious  boudoir,  will  know  how  to  rec- 
oncile the  Bloomer  costume  to  the  eye  of  mankind,  and 
make  it  triumphant  over  Punch  himself,  by  interpos- 
ing the  just  gradations.  I  need  not  say  how  wide  the 
same  law  ranges;  and  how  much  it  can  be  hoped  to 
effect.  All  that  is  a  little  harshly  claimed  by  progressive 
parties  may  easily  come  to  be  conceded  without  question, 
if  this  rule  be  observed.  Thus  the  circumstances  may  be 
easily  imagined,  in  which  woman  may  speak,  vote,  argue 
causes,  legislate,  and  drive  a  coach,  and  all  the  most  nat- 
urally in  the  world,  if  only  it  come  by  degrees.  To  this 
streaming  or  flowing  belongs  the  beauty  that  all  circular 
movement  has  ;  as,  the  circulation  of  waters,  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood,  the  periodical  motion  of  planets,  the 
annual  wave  of  vegetation,  the  action  and  reaction  of 
Nature ;  and,  if  we  follow  it  out,  this  demand  in  ouj 


BEAUTY.  231 

thought  for  an  ever-onward  action  is  the  argument  for 
the  immortality. 

One  more  text  from  the  mythologists  is  to  the  same 
purpose, — Beauty  rides  on  a  lion.  Beauty  rests  on  ne- 
cessities. The  line  of  beauty  is  the  result  of  perfect 
economy.  The  cell  of  the  bee  is  built  at  that  angle  which 
gives  the  most  strength  with  the  least  wax ;  the  bone  or 
the  quill  of  the  bird  gives  the  most  alar  strength  with 
the  least  weight.  "  It  is  the  purgation  of  superfluities," 
said  Michel  Angelo.  There  is  not  a  particle  to  spare  in 
natural  structures.  There  is  a  compelling  reason  in  the 
uses  of  the  plant,  for  every  novelty  of  color  or  form :  and 
our  art  saves  material,  by  more  skilful  arrangement,  and 
reaches  beauty  by  taking  every  superfluous  ounce  that 
can  be  spared  from  a  wall,  and  keeping  all  its  strength  in 
the  poetry  of  columns.  In  rhetoric,  this  art  of  omission 
is  a  chief  secret  of  power,  and,  in  general,  it  is  proof  of 
high  culture,  to  say  the  greatest  matters  in  the  simplest 
way. 

Veracity  first  of  all,  and  forever.  Rien  de  beau  que 
le  vrai.  In  all  design,  art  lies  in  making  your  object 
prominent,  but  there  is  a  prior  art  in  choosing  objects 
that  are  prominent.  The  fine  arts  have  nothing  casual, 
but  spring  from  the  instincts  of  the  nations  that  created 
them. 

Beauty  is  the  quality  which  makes  to  endure.  In  a 
house  that  I  know,  I  have  noticed  a  block  of  spermaceti 
lying  about  closets  and  mantel-pieces,  for  twenty  yeari 
together,  simply  because  the  tallow-man  gave  it  the  form 
of  a  rabbit ;  and,  I  suppose,  it  may  continue  to  be  lugged 
about  unchanged  for  a  century.  Let  an  artist  scrawl  a 


232  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

few  lines  or  figures  on  the  back  of  a  letter,  and  that  scrap 
of  paper  is  rescued  from  danger,  is  put  in  portfolio,  is 
framed  and  glazed,  and,  in  proportion  to  the  beauty  of 
the  lines  drawn,  will  be  kept  for  centuries.  Burns  writes 
a  copy  of  verses,  and  sends  them  to  a  newspaper,  and 
the  human  race  take  charge  of  them  that  they  shall  not 
perish. 

As  the  flute  is  heard  farther  than  the  cart,  see  how 
surely  a  beautiful  form  strikes  the  fancy  of  men,  and  is 
copied  and  reproduced  without  end.  How  many  copies 
are  there  of  the  Belvedere  Apollo,  the  Venus,  the  Psyche, 
the  Warwick  Vase,  the  Parthenon,  and  the  Temple  of 
Vesta  ?  These  are  objects  of  tenderness  to  all.  lu  our 
cities,  an  ugly  building  is  soon  removed,  and  is  never 
repeated,  but  any  beautiful  building  is  copied  and  im- 
proved upon,  so  that  all  masons  and  carpenters  work  to 
repeat  and  preserve  the  agreeable  forms,  whilst  the  ugly 
ones  die  out. 

The  felicities  of  design  in  art,  or  in  works  of  Nature, 
are  shadows  or  forerunners  of  that  beauty  which  readies 
its  perfection  in  the  human  form.  All  men  are  its  lovers. 
"Wherever  it  goes,  it  creates  joy  and  hilarity,  and  every- 
thing is  permitted  to  it.  It  reaches  its  height  in  woman. 
"  To  Eve,"  say  the  Mahometans,  "  God  gave  two  thirds 
of  all  beauty."  A  beautiful  woman  is  a  practical  poet, 
taming  her  savage  mate,  planting  tenderness,  hope,  and 
eloquence  in  all  whom  she  approaches.  Some  favors  of 
condition  must  go  with  it,  since  a  certain  serenity  is  es- 
sential, but  we  love  its  reproofs  and  superiorities.  Na- 
ture wishes  that  woman  should  attract  man,  yet  she  often 
cunningly  moulds  into  her  face  a  little  sarcasm,  which 


BEAUTY.  233 

seems  to  say,  "  Yes,  I  am  willing  to  attract,  but  to  attract  a 
little  better  kind  of  man  than  any  I  yet  behold."  French 
memoires  of  the  fifteenth  century  celebrate  the  name  of 
Pauline  de  Viguiere,  a  virtuous  and  accomplished  maid- 
tn,  who  so  fired  the  enthusiasm  of  her  contemporaries, 
by  her  enchanting  form,  that  the  citizens  of  her  native 
city  of  Toulouse  obtained  the  aid  of  the  civil  authorities 
to  compel  her  to  appear  publicly  on  the  balcony  at  least 
twice  a  week,  and,  as  often  as  she  showed  herself,  the 
crowd  was  dangerous  to  life.  Not  less,  in  England,  in 
the  last  century,  was  the  fame  of  the  Gunnings,  of  whom 
Elizabeth  married  the  Duke  of  Hamilton ;  and  Maria, 
the  Earl  of  Coventry.  Walpole  says  :  "  The  concourse 
was  so  great,  when  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton  was  pre- 
sented at  court,  on  Friday,  that  even  the  noble  crowd  in 
the  drawing-room  clambered  on  chairs  and  tables  to  look 
at  her.  There  are  mobs  at  their  doors  to  see  them  get 
into  their  chairs,  and  people  go  early  to  get  places  at 
the  theatres,  when  it  is  known  they  will  be  there." 
"Such  crowds,"  he  adds,  elsewhere,  "flock  to  see  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton,  that  seven  hundred  people  sat  up 
all  night,  in  and  about  an  inn,  in  Yorkshire,  to  see  her 
get  into  her  post-chaise  next  morning." 

But  why  need  we  console  ourselves  with  the  fames  of 
Helen  of  Argos,  or  Corinna,  or  Pauline  of  Toulouse,  or 
the  Duchess  of  Hamilton  ?  We  all  know  this  magic 
very  well,  or  can  divine  it.  It  does  not  hurt  weak  eyes 
to  look  into  beautiful  eyes  never  so  long.  Women  stand 
related  to  beautiful  Nature  around  us,  and  the  enamored 
youth  mixes  their  form  with  moon  and  stars,  with  woods 
and  waters,  and  the  pomp  of  summer.  They  heal  us  of 


234  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

awkwardness  by  their  words  and  looks.  We  observe 
their  intellectual  influence  on  the  most  serious  student. 
They  refine  and  clear  his  mind ;  teach  him  to  put  a  pleas- 
ing method  into  what  is  dry  and  difficult.  We  talk  to 
them  and  wish  to  be  listened  to ;  we  fear  to  fatigue  them, 
and  acquire  a  facility  of  expression  which  passes  from 
conversation  into  habit  of  style. 

That  Beauty  is  the  normal  state,  is  shown  by  the  per- 
petual effort  of  Nature  to  attain  it.  Mirabeau  had  an 
ugly  face  on  a  handsome  ground ;  and  we  see  faces  every 
day  which  have  a  good  type,  but  have  been  marred  in 
the  casting :  a  proof  that  we  are  all  entitled  to  beauty, 
should  have  been  beautiful,  if  our  ancestors  liad  kept  the 
laws,  —  as  every  lily  and  every  rose  is  well.  But  our 
bodies  do  not  fit  us,  but  caricature  and  satirize  us.  Thus, 
short  legs,  which  constrain  to  short,  mincing  steps,  are 
a  kind  of  personal  insult  and  contumely  to  the  owner ; 
and  long  stilts,  again,  put  him  at  perpetual  disadvantage, 
and  force  him  to  stoop  to  the  general  level  of  mankind. 
Martial  ridicules  a  gentleman  of  his  day  Avhose  counte- 
nance resembled  the  face  of  a  swimmer  seen  under  water. 
Saadi  describes  a  schoolmaster  "  so  ugly  and  crabbed, 
that  a  sight  of  him  would  derange  the  ecstasies  of  the 
orthodox."  Faces  are  rarely  true  to  any  ideal  type,  but 
are  a  record  in  sculpture  of  a  thousand  anecdotes  of 
whim  and  folly.  Portrait-painters  say  that  most  faces 
and  forms  are  irregular  and  unsymmetrical ;  have  one 
eye  blue,  and  one  gray ;  the  nose  not  straight ;  and  one 
shoulder  higher  than  another;  the  hair  unequally  dis- 
tributed, etc.  The  man  is  physically  as  well  as  meta- 
physically a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches,  borrowed  un- 


BEAUTY.  235 

equally  from  good  and  bad  ancestors,  and  a  misfit  from 
the  start. 

A  beautiful  person,  among  the  Greeks,  was  thought  to 
betray  by  this  sign  some  secret  favor  of  the  immortal 
gods ;  and  we  can  pardon  pride,  when  a  woman  possesses 
such  a  figure,  that  wherever  she  stands,  or  moves,  or 
throws  a  shadow  on  the  wall,  or  sits  for  a  portrait  to  the 
artist,  she  confers  a  favor  on  the  world.  And  yet  —  it 
is  not  beauty  that  inspires  the  deepest  passion.  Beauty 
without  grace  is  the  hook  without  the  bait.  Beauty, 
without  expression,  tires.  Abbe  Menage  said  of  the 
President  Le  Bailleul,  "  that  he  was  fit  for  nothing  but 
to  sit  for  his  portrait."  A  Greek  epigram  intimates  that 
the  force  of  love  is  not  shown  by  the  courting  of  beauty, 
but  when  the  like  desire  is  inflamed  for  one  who  is  ill- 
favored.  And  petulant  old  gentlemen,  who  have  chanced 
to  suffer  some  intolerable  weariness  from  pretty  people, 
or  who  have  seen  cut  flowers  to  some  profusion,  or  who 
see,  after  a  world  of  pains  have  been  successfully  taken 
for  the  costume,  how  the  least  mistake  in  sentiment  takes 
all  the  beauty  out  of  your  clothes,  —  affirm  that  the  se- 
cret of  ugliness  consists  not  in  irregularity,  but  in  being 
uninteresting. 

We  love  any  forms,  however  ugly,  from  which  great 
qualities  shine.  If  command,  eloquence,  art,  or  inven- 
tion exist  in  the  most  deformed  person,  all  the  accidents 
that  usually  displease,  please,  and  raise  esteem  and  won- 
der higher.  The  great  orator  was  an  emaciated,  insig- 
nificant person,  but  he  was  all  brain.  Cardinal  De  Retz 
says  of  De  Bouillon,  "With  the  physiognomy  of  an 
ox,  he  had  the  perspicacity  of  an  eagle."  It  was  said  of 


236  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Hooke,  the  friend  of  Newton,  "He  is  the  most,  and 
promises  the  least,  of  any  man  in  England."  "  Since  I 
am  so  ugly,"  said  Du  Guescliu,  "it  behooves  that  I  be 
bold."  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  darling  of  mankind,  Ben 
Jonson  tells  us,  "  was  no  pleasant  man  in  countenance, 
his  face  being  spoiled  with  pimples,  and  of  high  blood, 
and  long."  Those  who  have  ruled  human  destinies,  like 
planets,  for  thousands  of  years,  were  not  handsome  men. 
If  a  man  can  raise  a  small  city  to  be  a  great  kingdom, 
can  make  bread  cheap,  can  irrigate  deserts,  can  join 
oceans  by  canals,  can  subdue  steam,  can  organize  victory, 
can  lead  the  opinions  of  mankind,  can  enlarge  knowledge, 
't  is  no  matter  whether  his  nose  is  parallel  to  his  spine,  as 
it  ought  to  be,  or  whether  he  has  a  nose  at  all ;  whether 
his  legs  are  straight,  or  whether  his  legs  are  amputated  ; 
his  deformities  will  come  to  be  reckoned  ornamental  and 
advantageous  on  the  whole.  This  is  the  triumph  of  ex- 
pression, degrading  beauty,  charming  us  with  a  power  so 
fine  and  friendly  and  intoxicating,  that  it  makes  admired 
persons  insipid,  and  the  thought  of  passing  our  lives  with 
them  insupportable.  There  are  faces  so  fluid  with  ex- 
pression,  so  flushed  and  rippled  by  the  play  of  thought, 
that  we  can  hardly  find  what  the  mere  features  really  are. 
When  the  delicious  beauty  of  lineaments  loses  its  power, 
it  is  because  a  more  delicious  beauty  has  appeared ;  that 
an  interior  and  durable  form  has  been  disclosed.  Still, 
Beauty  rides  on  her  lion,  as  before.  Still,  "it  was  for 
beauty  that  the  world  was  made."  The  lives  of  the  Ital- 
ian artists,  who  established  a  despotism  of  genius  amidst 
the  dukes  and  kings  and  mobs  of  their  stormy  epoch, 
prove  how  loyal  men  in  all  times  are  to  a  finer  brain,  a 


BEAUTY.  237 

finer  method,  than  their  own.  If  a  man  can  cut  such 
a  head  on  his  stone  gate-post  as  shall  draw  and  keep  a 
crowd  about  it  all  day,  by  its  grace,  good-uature,  and  in- 
scrutable meaning ;  if  a  man  can  build  a  plain  cottage 
with  such  symmetry,  as  to  make  all  the  fine  palaces  look 
cheap  and  vulgar;  can  take  such  advantage  of  Nature 
that  all  her  powers  serve  him  ;  making  use  of  geometry, 
instead  of  expense ;  tapping  a  mountain  for  his  water-jet ; 
causing  the  sun  and  moon  to  seem  only  the  decorations 
of  his  estate ;  —  this  is  still  the  legitimate  dominion  of 
beauty. 

The  radiance  of  the  human  form,  though  sometimes 
astonishing,  is  only  a  burst  of  beauty  for  a  few  years  or 
a  few  months,  at  the  perfection  of  youth,  and  in  most, 
rapidly  declines.  But  we  remain  lovers  of  it,  only  trans- 
ferring our  interest  to  interior  excellence.  And  it  is  not 
only  admirable  in  singular  and  salient  talents,  but  also  in 
the  world  of  manners. 

But  the  sovereign  attribute  remains  to  be  noted. 
Things  are  pretty,  graceful,  rich,  elegant,  handsome,  but, 
until  they  speak  to  the  imagination,  not  yet  beautiful. 
This  is  the  reason  why  beauty  is  still  escaping  out  of  all 
analysis.  It  is  not  yet  possessed,  it  cannot  be  handled. 
Proclus  says,  "  It  swims  on  the  light  of  forms."  It  is 
properly  not  in  the  form,  but  in  the  mind.  It  instantly 
deserts  possession,  and  flies  to  an  object  in  the  horizon. 
If  I  could  put  my  hand  on  the  north  star,  would  it  be  as 
beautiful  ?  The  sea  is  lovely,  but  when  we  bathe  in  it, 
the  beauty  forsakes  all  the  near  water.  For  the  imagi- 
nation and  senses  cannot  be  gratified  at  the  same  time. 
Wordsworth  rightly  speaks  of  "  a  light  that  never  was 


238  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

on  sea  or  land,"  meaning,  that  it  was  supplied  by  the 
observer,  and  the  Welsh  bard  warns  his  countrywomen, 

that 

"  Half  of  their  charms  with  Cadwallon  shall  die." 

The  new  virtue  which  constitutes  a  thing  beautiful  is  a 
certain  cosmical  quality,  or,  a  power  to  suggest  relation 
to  the  whole  world,  and  so  lift  the  object  out  of  a  pitiful 
individuality.  Every  natural  feature  —  sea,  sky,  rainbow, 
flowers,  musical  tone  —  has  in  it  somewhat  which  is  not 
private,  but  universal,  speaks  of  that  central  benefit 
which  is  the  soul  of  Nature,  and  thereby  is  beautiful. 
And,  in  chosen  men  and  women,  I  find  somewhat  in  form, 
speech,  and  manners,  which  is  not  of  their  person  and 
family,  but  of  a  humane,  catholic,  and  spiritual  character, 
and  we  love  them  as  the  sky.  They  have  a  largeness  of 
suggestion,  and  their  face  and  manners  carry  a  certain 
grandeur,  like  time  and  justice. 

The  feat  of  the  imagination  is  in  showing  the  converti- 
bility of  everything  into  every  other  thing.  Facts  which 
had  never  before  left  their  stark  common-sense,  suddenly 
figure  as  Eleusinian  mysteries.  My  boots  and  chair  and 
candlestick  are  fairies  in  disguise,  meteors  and  constella- 
tions. All  the  facts  in  Nature  are  nouns  of  the  intellect, 
and  make  the  grammar  of  the  eternal  language.  Every 
word  has  a  double,  treble,  or  centuple  use  and  meaning. 
What !  has  my  stove  and  pepper-pot  a  false  bottom  !  I 
cry  you  mercy,  good  shoe-box !  I  did  not  know  you 
were  a  jewel-case.  Chaff7  and  dust  begin  to  sparkle,  and 
are  clothed  about  with  immortality.  And  there  is  a  joy 
in  perceiving  the  representative  or  symbolic  character  of 
a  fact,  which  no  bare  fact  or  event  can  ever  give.  There 


BEAUTY.  239 

are  no  days  in  life  so  memorable  as  those  wliich  vibrated 
to  some  stroke  of  the  imagination. 

The  poets  -are  quite  right  in  decking  their  mistresses 
with  the  spoils  of  the  landscape,  flower-gardens,  gems, 
rainbows,  flushes  of  morning,  and  stars  of  night,  since 
all  beauty  points  at  identity,  and  whatsoever  thing  does 
not  express  to  me  the  sea  and  sky,  day  and  night,  is 
somewhat  forbidden  and  wrong.  Into  every  beautiful 
object  there  enters  somewhat  immeasurable  and  divine, 
and  just  as  much  into  form  bounded  by  outlines,  like 
mountains  on  the  horizon,  as  into  tones  of  music,  or 
depths  of  space.  Polarized  light  showed  the  secret  archi- 
tecture of  bodies ;  and  when  the  second-sight  of  the  mind 
is  opened,  now  one  color  or  form  or  gesture,  and  now 
another,  has  a  pungency,  as  if  a  more  interior  ray  had 
been  emitted,  disclosing  its  deep  holdings  in  the  frame  of 
things. 

The  laws  of  this  translation  we  do  not  know,  or  why 
one  feature  or  gesture  enchants,  why  one  word  or  syl- 
lable intoxicates,  but  the  fact  is  familiar  that  the  flue 
touch  of  the  eye,  or  a  grace  of  manners,  or  a  phrase  of 
poetry,  plants  wings  at  our  shoulders ;  as  if  the  Divinity, 
in  his  approaches,  lifts  away  mountains  of  obstruction, 
and  deigus  to  draw  a  truer  line,  which  the  mind  knows 
and  owns.  This  is  that  haughty  force  of  beauty,  "  vis 
super ba  forma  "  which  the  poets  praise,  —  under  calm 
and  precise  outline,  the  immeasurable  and  diviue ;  Beauty 
hiding  all  wisdom  aud  power  in  its  calm  sky. 

All  high  beauty  has  a  moral  element  in  it,  and  I  find 
the  antique  sculpture  as  ethical  as  Marcus  Antoninus : 
and  the  beauty  ever  in  proportion  to  the  depth  of 


240  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

thought.  Gross  and  obscure  natures,  however  decorated, 
seem  impure  shambles ;  but  character  gives  splendor  to 
youth,  and  awe  to  wrinkled  skin  and  gray  hairs.  An 
adorer  of  truth  we  cannot  choose  but  obey,  and  the  wo- 
man who  has  shared  with  us  the  moral  sentiment,  —  her 
locks  must  appear  to  us  sublime.  Thus  there  is  a  climb- 
ing scale  of  culture,  from  the  first  agreeable  sensation 
which  a  sparkling  gem  or  a  scarlet  stain  affords  the  eye, 
up  through  fair  outlines  and  details  of  the  landscape, 
features  of  the  human  face  and  form,  signs  and  tokens 
of  thought  and  character  in  manners,  up  to  the  ineffable 
mysteries  of  the  intellect.  Wherever  we  begin,  thither 
our  steps  tend :  an  ascent  from  the  joy  of  a  horse  in 
his  trappings,  up  to  the  perception  of  Newton,  that  the 
globe  on  which  we  ride  is  only  a  larger  apple  falling  from 
a  larger  tree ;  up  to  the  perception  of  Plato,  that  globe 
and  universe  are  rude  and  early  expressions  of  an  all-dis- 
solving Unity,  —  the  first  stair  on  the  scale  to  the  temple 
of  the  Mind. 


IX. 

ILLUSIONS. 


FLOW,  flow  the  waves  hated, 

Accursed,  adored, 

The  waves  of  mutation  : 

No  anchorage  is. 

Sleep  is  not,  death  is  not; 

Who  seem  to  die  live. 

House  you  were  born  in, 

Friends  of  your  spring-time, 

Old  man  and  young  maid, 

Day's  toil  and  its  guerdon, 

They  are  all  vanishing, 

Fleeing  to   fables, 

Cannot  be  moored. 

See  the  stars  through  them, 

Through  treacherous  marbles. 

Know,  the  stars  yonder, 

The  stars  everlasting, 

Are  fugitive  also, 

And  emulate,   vaulted, 

The  lambent  heat-lightning, 

And  fire-fly's  flight. 

When  thou  dost  return. 
On  the  wave's  circulation, 
11 


242  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

Beholding  the  shimmer, 
The  wild  dissipation, 
And,  out  of  endeavor 
To  change  a'.d  to  flow, 
The  gas  becomes  solid, 
And  phantoms  and  nothings 
/  Return  to  be  things, 
C    And  endless  imbroglio    X 
Is  law  and  the  world, — 
Then   first  shalt  thou  know, 
That  iu  the  wild  turmoil, 
Horsed  on  the  Proteus, 
.  Thou  ridest  to  power, 
Aud  to  eudurauce. 


ILLUSIONS. 


SOME  years  ago,  in  company  with  an  agreeable  party, 
I  spent  a  long  summer  day  in  exploring  the  Mammoth 
Cave  in  Kentucky.  We  traversed,  through  spacious 
galleries  affording  a  solid  masonry  foundation  for  the 
town  and  county  overhead,  the  six  or  eight  black 
miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  to  the  innermost 
recess  which  tourists  visit,  —  a  niche  or  grotto  made  of 
one  seamless  stalactite,  and  called,  I  believe,  Serena's 
Bower.  I  lost  the  light  of  one  day.}  I  saw  high  domes, 
and  bottomless  pits;  taaVOhfTvoice  of  unseen  water- 
falls ;  paddled  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  the  deep  Echo 
River,  whose  waters  are  peopled  with  the  blind  fish ; 
crossed  the  streams  "  Lethe  "  and  "  Styx  " ;  plied  with 
music  and  guns  the  echoes  in  these  alarming  galleries ; 
saw  every  form  of  stalagmite  and  stalactite  in  the  sculp- 
tured and  fretted  chambers,  —  icicle,  orange-flower,  acan- 
thus, grapes,  and  snowball.  We  shot  Bengal  lights  into 
the  vaults  and  groins  of  the  sparry  cathedrals,  and  exam- 
ined all  the  masterpieces  which  the  four  combined  en- 
gineers, water,  limestone,  gravitation,  and  time,  could 
make  in  the  dark. 

The  mysteries  and  scenery  of  the  cave  had  the  samp 
dignity  that  belongs  to  all  natural  objects,  and  whicl/ 


244  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE,    g.^ 

shames  the  fine  things  to  which  we  foppishly  compare 
them.  I  remarked,  especially,  the  mimetic  habit,  with 
which  Nature,  on  new  instruments,  hums  her  old  tunes,  ' 
making  night  to  mimic  day,  and  chemistry  to  ape  vegeta- 
tion. But  I  then  took  notice,  and  still  chiefly  remem- 
ber, that  the  best  thing  which  the  cave  had  to  offer  was 
an  illusion.  On  arriving  at  what  is  called  the  "Star- 
Chamber,"  our  lamps  were  taken  from  us  by  the  guide, 
and  extinguished  or  put  aside,  and,  on  looking  upwards, 
I  saw  or  seemed  to  see  the  night  heaven  thick  with 
stars  glimmering  more"  or  less  brightly  over  our  heads, 
and  even  what  seemed  a  comet  flaming  among  them. 
All  the  party  were  touched  with  astonishment  and  pleas- 
ure. Our  musical  friends  sung  with  much  feeling  a 
pretty  song,  "  The  stars  are  in  the  quiet  sky,"  etc.,  and 
I  sat  down  on  the  rocky  floor  to  enjoy  the  serene  pic- 
ture. Some  crystal  specks  in  the  black  ceiling  high 
overhead,  reflecting  the  light  of  a  half-hid  lamp,  yielded 
this  magnificent  effect. 

I  own,  I  did  not  like  the  cave  so  well  for  eking  out 
its  sublimities  with  this  theatrical  trick.  But  I  have 
had  many  experiences  like  it,  before  and  since  ;  and  \ve 
must  be  content  to  be  pleased  without  too  curiously 
analyzing  the  occasions.  Our  conversation  with  Nature  I 
is  not  just  what  it  seems.  The  cloud-rack,  the  sun-  * 
rise  and  sunset  glories,  rainbows  and  northern  lights, 
are  not  quite  so  spheral  as  our  childhood  thought  them  ; 
and  the  part  our  organization  plays  in  them  is  too  large. 
/The  senses  interfere  everywhere,  and  mix  their  own 
structure  with  all  they  report  of.  Once,  we  fancied  the 
earth  a  plane,  and  stationary.  In  admiring  the  sunset, 


ILLUSIONS.  245 

we  do  not  yet  deduct  the  rounding,  co-ordinating,  picto- 
rial powers  of  the  eye. 

The  same  interference  from  our  organization  creates 
the  most  of  our  pleasure  and  pain.  Our  first  mistake  is 
the  belief  that  the  circumstance  gives  the  joy  which 
we  give  to  the  circumstance.  Life  is  an  ecstasy.  Life 
is  sweet  as  nitrous  oxide;  and  the  fisherman  drip- 
ping all  day  over  a  cold  pond,  the  switchman  at  the 
railway  intersection,  the  farmer  in  the  field,  the  negro  in 
the  rice-swamp,  the  fop  in  the  street,  the  hunter  in  the 
woods,  the  barrister  with  the  jury,  the  belle  at  the  ball, 
all  ascribe  a  certain  pleasure  to  their  employment,  which 
they  themselves  give  it.  Health  and  appetite  impart  the 
sweetness  to  sugar,  bread,  and  meat.  We  fancy  that  our 
civilization  has  got  on  far,  but  we  still  come  back  to  our 
primers.  -'  °  •  M 

We  live  by  our  imaginations,  by  our  admirations,  by 
our  sentiments.  The  child  walks  amid  heaps  of  illu- 
sions, which  he  does  not  like  to  have  disturbed.  The 
boy,  how  sweet  to  him  is  his  fancy !  how  dear  the  story 
of  barons  and  battles !  What  a  hero  he  is,  whilst  he 
feeds  on  his  heroes  !  What  a  debt  is  his  to  imaginative 
books  !  He  has  no  better  friend  or  influence,  than  Scott, 
Shakspeare,  Plutarch,  and  Homer.  The  man  lives  to 
other  objects,  but  who  dare  aflirm  that  they  are  more 
real  ?  Even  the  prose  of  the  streets  is  full  of  refrac- 
tions. In  the  life  of  the  dreariest  alderman,  fancy  enters 
into  all  details,  and  colors  them  with  rosy  hue.  He  imi- 
tates the  air  and  actions  of  people  whom  he  admires,  and 
is  raised  in  his  own  eyes.  He  pays  a  debt  quicker  to  a 
rich  man  than  to  a  poor  man.  He  wishes  the  bow  and 


246  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

compliment  of  some  leader  in  the  state,  or  in  society; 
weighs  what  he  says ;  perhaps  he  never  comes  nearer  to 
him  for  that,  but  dies  at  last  better  contented  for  this 
amusement  of  his  eyes  and  his  fancy. 

The  world  rolls,  the  din  of  life  is  never  hushed.  In 
London,  in  Paris,  in  Boston,  in  San  Francisco,  the  car- 
nival, the  masquerade,  is  at  its  height.  Nobody  drops 
his  domino.  The  unities,  the  fictions  of  the  piece,  it 
would  be  an  impertinence  to  break.  The  chapter  of 
fascinations  is  very  long.  Great  is  paint ;  nay,  God  is 
the  painter ;  and  we  rightly  accuse  the  critic  who  de- 
stroys too, many  illusions.  Society  does  not  love  its  un- 
maskers.  It  was  wittily,  if  somewhat  bitterly,  said  by 
D'Alembert,  "  qu'un  etat  de  vapcur  etait  un  etat  tres 
fdcheux,  parcequ'il  nous  faisait  voir  les  choses  comme 
elles  soyt."  I  find  men  mctuns)  of  illusion  in  all  parts 
of  life.  Children,  youths,  adults,  and  old  men,  all  are 
led  by  one  bawble  or  another.  Yogauidra,  the  goddess 
of  illusion,  Proteus,  or  Momus,  or  Gylfi's  Mocking,  — 
for  the  Power  has  many  names,  —  is  stronger  than  the 
Titans,  stronger  than  Apollo.  Few  have  overheard  the 
gods,  or  surprised  their  secret.  Life  is  a  succession  of 
lessons  which  must  be  lived  to  be  understood.  All  is 
riddle,  and  the  key  to  a  riddle  is  another  riddle.  There 
are  as  many  pillows  of  illusion  as  flakes  in  a  snow-storm. 
ffle  wake  from  one  dream  into  another  dream.  The 
toys,  to  be  sure,  are  various,  and  are  graduated  in  refine- 
ment to  the  quality  of  the  dupe.  The  intellectual  man 
requires  a  fine  bait ;  the  sots  are  easily  amused.  But 
everybody  is  drugged  with  his  own  frenzy,  and  the 
pageant  marches  at  all  hours,  with  music  and  banner 
and  bad^e. 


ILLUSIONS.  247 

Amid  the  joyous  troop  who  give  in  to  the  charivari 
comes  now  and  then  a  sad-eyed  boy^  whose  eyes  lack  the 
requisite  refractions  to  clothe  the  show  in  due  glory,  and 
who  is  afflicted  with  a  tendency  to  trace  home  the  glitter- 
ing miscellany  of  fruits  and  flowers  to  one  root.  Science 
is  a  search  after  identity,  and  the  scientific  whim  is  lurk- 
ing in  all  corners.  At  the  State  Fair,  a  friend  of  mine 
complained  that  all  the  varieties  of  fancy  pears  in  our 
orchards  seem  to  have  been  selected  by  somebody  who 
had  a  whim  for  a  particular  kind  of  pear,  and  only  cul- 
tivated such  as  had  that  perfume;  they  were  all  alike. 
And  I  remember  the  quarrel  of  another  youth  with  the 
confectioners,  that,  when  he  racked  his  wit  to  choose 
the  best  comfits  in  the  shops,  in  all  the  endless  varieties 
of  sweetmeat  he  could  only  find  three  flavors,  or  two. 
What  then  ?  Pears  and  cakes  are  good  for  something ; 
and  because  you,  unluckily,  have  an  eye  or  nose  too 
keen,  why  need  you  spoil  the  comfort  which  the  rest  of 
us  find  in  them  ?  I  knew  a  humorist,  who,  in  a  good 
deal  of  rattle,  had  a  grain  or  two  of  sense.  He  shocked 
the  company  by  maintaining  that  the  attributes  of  God 
were  two,  —  power  and  risibility ;  and  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  every  pious  man  to  keep  up  the  comedy.  And  I 
1iave  kuowu  gentlemen  of  great  stake  in  the  community, 
but  whose  sympathies  were  cold,  —  presidents  of  col- 
leges, and  governors,  and  senators,  —  who  held  them- 
selves bound  to  sign  every  temperance  pledge,  and  act 
with  Bible  societies,  and  missions,  and  peacemakers,  and 
cry  Hist-a-boy  !  to  every  good  dog.  We  must  not  carry 
comity  too  far,  but  we  all  have  kind  impulses  in  this 
direction.  When  the  boys  come  into  my  yard  for  leave 


248  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

to  gather  horse-chestnuts,  I  own  I  enter  into  Nature's 
game,  and  affect  to  grant  the  permission  reluctantly, 
fearing  that  any  moment  they  will  find  out  the  impos- 
ture of  that  showy  chaff.  But  this  tenderness  is  quite 
unnecessary ;  the  enchantments  are  laid  on  very  thick. 
Their  young  life  is  thatched  with  them.  Bare  and  grim 
to  tears  is  the  lot  of  the  children  in  the  hovel  I  saw 
yesterday;  yet  not  the  less  they  hung  it  round  with 
frippery  romance,  like  the  children  of  the  happiest  for- 
tune, and  talked  of  "the  dear  cottage  where  so  many 
joyful  hours  had  flown."  Well,  this  thatching  of  hovels 
is  the  custom  of  the  country.  Women,  more  than  all, 
are  the  element  and  kingdom  of  illusion.  Being  fasci- 
nated, they  fascinate.  They  see  through  Claude-Lor- 
raines.  And  how  dare  any  one,  if  he  could,  pluck 
away  the  coulisses,  stage  effects,  and  ceremonies,  by 
which  they  live  ?  Too  pathetic,  too  pitiable,  is  the  re- 
gion of  affection,  and  its  atmosphere  always  liable  to 
mirage. 

We  are  not  very  much  to  blame  for  our  bad  marriages. 
We  live  amid  hallucinations ;  andT  this  especial  trap~Ts 
laid  to  trip  up  our  feet  with,  and  all  are  tripped  up  first 
or  last.  But  the  mighty  Mother  who  had  been  so  sly 
with  us,  as  if  she  felt  that  she  owed  us  some  indemnity, 
insinuates  into  the  Pandora-box  of  marriage  some  deep 
and  serious  benefits,  and  some  great  joys.  We  find  a 
delight  in  the  beauty  and  happiness  of  children,  that 
makes  the  heart  too  big  for  the  body.  In  the  worst- 
assorted  connections  there  is  ever  some  mixture  of  true 
marriage.  Teague  and  his  jade  get  some  just  relations 
of  mutual  respect,  kindly  observation,  and  fostering  of 


ILLUSIONS.  249 

each  other,  learn  something,  and  would  carry  themselves 
wiselier,  if  they  were  now  to  begin. 

'T  is  fine  for  us  to  point  at  one  or  another  fine  mad- 
man, as  if  there  were  any  exempts.  The  scholar  in  his 
library  is  none.  I,  who  have  all  my  life  heard  any  num- 
ber of  orations  and  debates,  read  poems  and  miscellaneous 
books,  conversed  with  many  geniuses,  am  still  the  victim 
of  any  new  page ;  and,  if  Marmaduke,  or  Hugh,  or 
Moosehead,  or  any  other,  invent  a  new  style  or  mythol- 
ogy, I  fancy  that  the  world  will  be  all  brave  and  right, 
if  dressed  in  these  colors,  which  I  had  not  thought  of. 
Then  at  once  I  will  daub  with  this  new  paint ;  but  it  will 
not  stick.  'T  is  like  the  cement  which  the  pedler  sells 
at  the  door ;  he  makes  broken  crockery  hold  with  it, 
but  you  can  never  buy  of  him  a  bit  of  the  cement  which 
will  make  it  hold  when  he  is  gone. 

Men  who  make  themselves  felt  in  the  world  avail 
themselves  of  a  certain  fate  in  their  constitution,  which 
they  know  how  to  use.  But  they  never  deeply  interest 
us,  unless  they  lift  a  corner  of  the  curtain,  or  betray 
never  so  slightly  their  penetration  of  what  is  behind  it. 
'T  is  the  charm  of  practical  men,  that  outside  of  their 
practicality  are  a  certain  poetry  and  play,  as  if  they 
led  the  good  horse  Power  by  the  bridle,  and  preferred 
to  walk,  though  they  can  ride  so  fiercely.  Bonaparte 
is  intellectual,  as  well  as  Caesar;  and  the  best  sol- 
diers, sea-captains,  and  railway-men  have  a  gentleness, 
when  off  duty ;  a  good-natured  admission  that  there 
are  illusions,  and  who  shall  say  that  he  is  not  their 
sport?  We  stigmatize  the  cast-iron  fellows,  who  can- 
not so  detach  themselves,  as  "dragon-ridden,"  "thun- 
11* 


250  CONDUCT    OP    LIFE. 

der-stricken,"  and  fools  of  fate,  with  .whatever  powers 
endowed. 

Since  our  tuition  is  through  emblems  and  indirections, 
't  is  well  to  know  that  there  is  method  in  it,  a  fixed  scale, 
and  rank  above  rank  in  tlie  phantasms.  We  begin  low 
with  coarse  masks,  and  rise  to  the  most  subtle  and  beau- 
tiful. The  red  men  told  Columbus,  "  they  had  an  herb 
which  took  away  fatigue  " ;  but  he  found  the  illusion  of 
"  arriving  from  the  east  at  the  Indies  "  more  composing 
to  his  lofty  spirit  than  any  tobacco.  Is  not  our  faith  in" 
the  impenetrability  of  matter  more  sedative  than  narcot- 
ics ?  You  play  with  jack-straws,  balls,  bowls,  horse  and 
gun,  estates  and  politics ;  but  there  are  finer  games 
before  you.  Is  not  time  a  pretty  toy  ?  Life  will  show 
you  masks  that  are  worth  all  your  carnivals.  Yonder 
mountain  must  migrate  into  your  mind.  The  fine  star- 
dust  and  nebulous  blur  in  Orion,  "  the  portentous  year 
of  Mizar  and  Alcor,"  must  come  down  and  be  dealt 
with  in  your  household  thought.  What  if  you  shall  come 
to  discern  that  the  play  and  playground  of  all  this  pom- 
pous history  are  radiations  from  yourself,  and  that  the 
sun  borrows  his  beams  ?  What  terrible  questions  we  are 
learning  to  ask  !  The  former  men  believed  in  magic,  by 
which  temples,  cities,  and  men  were  swallowed  up,  and 
all  trace  of  them  gone.  We  are  coming  on  the  secret  of 
a  magic  which  sweeps  out  of  men's  minds  all  vestige 
of  theism  and  beliefs  which  they  and  their  fathers  held 
and  were  framed  upon. 

There  are  deceptions  of  the  senses,  deceptions  of  the 
.'ipassions,  and  the  structural,  beneficent  illusions  of  scuti- 
'Vneut  and  of  the  intellect.  There  is  the  illusion  of  love, 


ILLUSIONS.  251 

which  attributes  to  the  beloved  person  all  which  that 
person  shares  with  his  or  her  family,  sex,  age,  or  con- 
dition, nay  with  the  human  mind  itself.  'T  is  these 
which  the  lover  loves,  and  Anna  Matilda  gets  the  credit 
of  them.  As  if  one  shut  up  always  in  a  tower,  with 
one  window,  through  which  the  face  of  heaven  and 
earth  could  be  seen,  should  fancy  that  all  the  mar- 
vels he  beheld  belonged  to  that  window.  There  is  the 
illusion  of  time,  which  is  very  deep ;  who  has  dis- 
posed of  it  ?  or  come  to  the  conviction  that  what  seems 
the  succession  of  thought  is  only  the  distribution  of 
wholes  into  causal  series  ?  The  intellect  sees  that 
every  atom  carries  the  whole  of  Nature ;  that  the  mind 
opens  to  omnipotence;  that,  in  the  endless  striving 
and  ascents,  the  metamorphosis  is  entire,  so  that  the 
soul  doth  not  know  itself  in  its  own  act,  when  that  act 
is  perfected.  There  is  illusion  that  shall  deceive  even 
the  elect.  There  is  illusion  that  shall  deceive  even  the 
perfonner  of  the  miracle.  Though  he  make  his  body,  he 
denies  that  he  makes  it.  Though  the  world  exist  from 
thought,  thought  is  daunted  in  presence  of  the  world. 
One  after  the  other  we  accept  the  mental  laws,  still 
resisting  those  which  follow,  which  however  must  be 
accepted.  But  all  our  concessions  only  compel  us  to 
new  profusion.  And  what  avails  it  that  science  has  come. 
to  treat  space  and  time  as  simply  forms  of  thought, 
and  the  material  world  as  hypothetical,  and  withal  our 
pretension  of  property  and  even  of  selfhood  are  fad- 
ing with  the  rest,  if,  at  last,  even  our  thoughts  are  ( 
not  finalities;  but  the  incessant  flowing  and  ascension 
reach  these  also,  and  each  thought  which  yesterday 


252  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

was  a  finality,  to-day  is  yielding  to  a  larger  generaliza- 
tion? 

With  such  volatile  elements  to  work  in,  't  is  no  won- 
der if  our  estimates  are  loose  and  floating.  We  must 
work  and  affirm,  but  we  have  no  guess  of  the  value  of 
what  we  say  or  do.  The  cloud  is  now  as  big  as  your 
hand,  and  now  it  covers  a  county.  That  story  of  Thor, 
who  was  set  to  drain  the  drinking-horn  in  Asgard,  and 
to  wrestle  with  the  old  woman,  and  to  run  with  the  run- 
ner Lok,  and  presently  found  that  he  had  been  drinking 
up  the  sea,  and  wrestling  with  Time,  and  racing  with 
Thought,  describes  us  who  are  contending,  amid  these 
seeming  trifles,  with  the  supreme  energies  of  Nature. 
We  fancy  we  have  fallen  into  bad  company  and  squalid 
condition,  low  debts,  shoe-bills,  broken  glass  to  pay  for, 
pots  to  buy,  butcher's  meat,  sugar,  milk,  and  coal.  "  Set 
me  some  great  task,  ye  gods  !  and  I  will  show  my  spirit." 
"  Not  so,"  says  the  good  Heaven ;  "  plod  and  plough, 
vamp  your  old  coats  and  hats,  weave  a  shoestring; 
great  affairs  and  the  best  wine  by  and  by/'  Well,  't  is 
all  phantasm ;  and  if  we  weave  a  yard  of  tape  in  all 
humility,  and  as  well  as  we  can,  long  hereafter  we  shall 
see  it  was  no  cotton  tape  at  all,  but  some  galaxy  which 
we  braided,  and  .that  the  threads  were  Time  and  Na- 
ture. 

We  cannot  write  the  order  of  the  variable  winds. 
How  can  we  penetrate  the  law  of  our  shifting  moods 
and  susceptibility  ?  Yet  they  differ  as  all  and  nothing. 
Instead  of  the  firmament  of  yesterday,  which  our  eyes 
require,  it  is  to-day  an  egg-shell  which  coops  us  in ;  we 
cannot  even  see  what  or  where  our  stars  of  destiny  are. 


ILLUSIONS.  253 

From  day  to  day,  the  capital  facts  of  human  life  are  hid- 
den from  our  eyes.  Suddenly  the  mist  rolls  up,  and 
reveals  them,  and  we  think  how  much  good  time  is  gone, 
that  might  have  been  saved,  had  any  hint  of  these  things 
been  shown.  A  sudden  rise  in  the  road  shows  us  the 
system  of  mountains,  and  all  the  summits,  which  have 
been  just  as  near  us  all  the  year,  but  quite  out  of  mind. 
But  these  alternations  are  not  without  their  order,  and 
we  are  parties  to  our  various  fortune.  If  life  seem  a  suc- 
cession of  dreams,  yet  poetic  justice  is  done  in  dreams 
also.  The  visions  of  good  men  are  good ;  it  is  the  un- 
disciplined will  that  is  whipped  with  bad  thoughts  and 
bad  fortunes.  When  we  break  the  laws,  we  lose  our 
hold  on  the  central  reality.  Like  sick  men  in  hospitals, 
we  change  only  from  bed  to  bed,  from  one  folly  to  an- 
other; and  it  cannot  signify  much  what  becomes  of 
such  castaways,  —  wailing,  stupid,  comatose  creatures, — 
lifted  from  bed  to  bed,  from  the  nothing  of  life  to  the 
nothing  of  death. 

In  this  kingdom  of  illusions  we  grope  eagerly  for  stays 
and  foundations.  There  is  none  but  a  strict  and  faithful 
dealing  at  home,  and  a  severe  barring  out  of  all  duplicity 
or  illusion  there.  Whatever  games  are  played  with  us, 
fwe  must  play  no  games  with  ourselves,  but  deal  in  our 
privacy  with  the  last  honesty  and  truth.  I  look  upon 
the  simple  and  childish  virtues  of  veracity  and  honesty  as 
the  root  of  all  that  is  sublime  in  character.  Speak  as 
you  think,  be  what  you  are,  pay  your  debts  of  all  kinds. 
I  prefer  to  be  owned  as  sound  and  solvent,  and  my  word 
as  good  as  my  bond,  and  to  be  what  cannot  be  skipped, 
or  dissipated,  or  undermined,  to  all  the  eclat  in  the  uni- 


254  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

verse.  This  reality  is  the  foundation  of  friendship,  re- 
ligion,  poetry,  and  art.  At  the  top  or  at  the  bottom 
of  all  illusions,  I  set  the  cheat  which  still  leads  us  to 
work  and  live  for  appearances,  in  spite  of  our  convic- 
tion, in  all  sane  hours,  that  it  is  what  we  really  are  that 
avails  with  friends,  with  strangers,  and  with  fate  or 
fortune. 

One  would  think  from  the  talk  of  men,  that  riches 
and  poverty  were  a  great  matter ;  and  our  civilization 
mainly  respects  it.  But  the  Indians  say,  that  they  do  not 
think  the  white  man  with  his  brow  of  care,  always  toil- 
ing, afraid  of  heat  and  cold,  and  keeping  within  doors, 
has  any  advantage  of  them.  The  permanent  interest  of 
every  man  is,  never  to  be  in  a  false  position,  but  to  have 
the  weight  of  Nature  to  back  him  in  all  that  he  does. 
Riches  and  poverty  are  a  thick  or  thin  costume ;  and  our 
life  —  the  life  of  all  of  us  —  identical.  For  we  transcend 
the  circumstance  continually,  and  taste  the  real  quality  of 
existence ;  as  in  our  employments,  which  only  differ  in 
the  manipulations,  but  express  the  same  laws ;  or  in  our 
thoughts,  which  wear  no  silks,  and  taste  no  ice-creams. 
We  see  God  face  to  face  every  hour,  and  know  the  savor 
of  Nature. 

The  early  Greek  philosophers  Heraclitus  and  Xeno- 
phanes  measured  their  force  on  this  problem  of  identity. 
Diogenes  of  Apollonia  said,  that  unless  the  atoms  were 
made  of  one  stuff,  they  could  never  blend  and  act-  with 
one  another.  But  the  Hindoos,  in  their  sacred  writings, 
express  the  liveliest  feeling,  both  of  the  essential  identity, 
and  of  that  illusion  which  they  conceive  variety  to  be. 
"The  notions,  'lam'  and  'This  is  mine,'  which  influ- 


ILLUSIONS.  255 

ence  mankind,  are  but  delusions  of  the  mother  of  the 
world.  Dispel,  O  Lord  of  all  creatures  !  the  conceit  of 
knowledge  which  proceeds  from  ignorance."  And  the 
beatitude  of  man  they  hold  to  he  in  being  freed  from 
fascination. 

The  intellect  is  stimulated  by  the  statement  of  truth  in 
a  trope,  and  the  will  by  clothing  the  laws  of  life  in  illu- 
sions. But  the  unities  of  Truth  and  of  Right  are  not 
broken  by  the  disguise.  There  need  never  be  any  con- 
fusion in  these.  In  a  crowded  life  of  many  parts  and 
performers,  on  a  stage  of  nations,  or  in  the  obscur- 
est hamlet  in  Maine  or  California,  the  same  elements 
offer  the  same  choices  to  each  new-comer,  and,  accord- 
ing to  his  election,  he  fixes  his  fortune  in  absolute 
Nature.  It  would  be  hard  to  put  more  mental  and 
moral  philosophy  than  the  Persians  have  thrown  into 
a  sentence :  — 

\ 

"  Fooled  thou  must  he.  thomrh.  wisest  of  the  wise : 
Theu  be._ theJdoi  of  virtue,  net  of  vice."    , 

A, -M^ 

There  is  no  chance,  and  no  anarchy,  in  the  universe. 
All  is  system  and  gradation.  Every  god  is  there  sitting 
in  his  sphere.  The  young  mortal  enters  the  hall  of  the 
firmament ;  there  is  he_algne_with  them  alone,  they  pour- 
ing on  him  benedictions  and  gifts,  and  beckoning  him  up 
to  their  thrones.  On  the  instant,  and  incessantly,  fall 
snow-storms  of  illusions.  He  fancies  himself  in  a  vast 
crowd  which  sways  this  way  and  that,  and  whose  move- 
ment and  doings  he  must  obey  :  he  fancies  himself  poor, 
orphaned,  insignificant.  The  mad  crowd  drives  hither 
and  thither,  BOW  furiously  commanding  this  thing  to  be 


256  CONDUCT    OF    LIFE. 

done,  now  that.  What  is  he  that  he  should  resist  their 
will,  and  think  or  act  for  himself?  Every  moment,  new 
changes,  and  new  showers  of  deceptions,  to  baffle  and 
distract  him.  And  when,  by  and  by,  for  an  instant,  the 
air  clears,  and  the  cloud  lifts  a  little,  there  are  the  gods 
still  sitting  around  him  on  their  thrones,  —  they  alone 
with  him  alone. 


J 


/» — 


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